


Shadow of Thedas

by M_Inez



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games), Middle-earth: Shadow of War (Video Games), TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Also spoiler for both games and I mean a lot of spoilers, Alternative Inquisitor, Angst, Assume everyone that is on Inquisition is here, Celebrimbor Has Issues, Celebrimbor Makes Bad Life Choices, Crack Treated Seriously, Dimension Travel, Eru help me, Fix-It, For some reason it became a fix-it of sorts, I might add one more couple but it will be background, I promise a happy ending, I'm Sorry Tolkien, Lavellan is not the inquisitor, M/M, Nazgûl Talion, Nazgûl in Thedas, Not beta read we die like Talion (over and over again), Past Relationship(s), Talion and Celebrimbor need to work out things, Talion has questions and Solas has answers, Talion has some dark thoughts, Talion is tired and so is Celebrimbor, Temporary Amnesia, Temporary Character Death, This is going to be long, a Nazgûl is a scary figure, fix-it Corypheus, they need friends, this is absurd but I regret nothing, this will follow Inquisition's plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27335956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Inez/pseuds/M_Inez
Summary: The Ninth Nazgûl finds himself in a strange new world. The skies are torn and he shouldn't be alive. Can't a man just get his peace?"He was a key to their salvation. To stop whatever was happening. Was this some kind of test or second chance given by the Valar? What the heck was even happening? He was lost, in a unknown land and there was a rift on the sky! He was supposed to be dead! So what was this? Some sort of joke?"Or... A stupid idea I had. On which Talion and Celebrimbor have time to work out their feelings without any Ring of Power and Andraste's Herald is a bit creepy.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Talion (Shadow of Mordor)
Comments: 65
Kudos: 123





	1. The Beginning, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I have no idea of what I'm doing. But here it is. I hope someone enjoys it. Dragon Age and everything Middle Earth is basically my life and I wanted to see a crossover. I also still didn't got over Talion and Celebrimbor, so I wanted something nice and heroic for them. 
> 
> Ah! Celebrimbor will eventually appear, but be patient. Dragon Age Inquisition is a big game.

He felt when the Ring hit the magma. He felt his Master's magic burn away, a white hot pain, deep on what was left of his soul. His throat once again split open, cold and sticky blood pouring out. The pain present, but unimportant. The world started to blur. Death was near. And this time, there was no Ring left to save him. 

The little ones had manage to destroy the One Ring. 

At last, he would be free. From Sauron's grasp. From the Witch King's. There was not much left of himself, he couldn't remember who he was if not a Nazgûl, but he still felt content. 

The fellbeast under his legs didn't share his views. It cried out in despair, lost and confused, feeling Sauron's final downfall, and the Ninth could no longer control it. No magic held the creature now, but Sauron had bred them with it. It was free. And terrified. For it had never been free before. He was not sure it could survive free. 

The creature, as others like it around the skies of Mordor, was trying to flee from the fire and rocks flying out of Mount Doom. It was as if the now defeated Maia was the only thing holding the entire land together. And as his powers left him, the nature lashed out on them. Seeking revenge for the destruction done. 

It seen to be the case, as he saw a rock hit one of the Nazgûl. As if the mount was targeting her. 

He could no longer recall her name, just like he could not recall his. Nor did he cared for her. Though he also did not felt hatred towards the dying figure, now smashed between the ground and a massive flaming rock. He only watched as she died. Unsure of what to do, what to feel. 

No Will commanded him for the first time in decades. Therefore, he no longer cared about Domination and Rings of Power. 

He was about to die himself, anyway. Every second was slow and detailed, but blurred. His fellbeast continued to dodge the rocks in desperation. There was nothing left to do but watch the last moments of the Ringwraiths. 

Then the great black tower of Sauron started to crumble. Collapsing on itself as the Eye lost it's powers. The black and polished material breaking apart, under it's own weight. 

The Ninth remembered that there was something important there. Though he wasn't sure as to why or even what it could be. 

It didn't matter. 

As Barad-dûr fell, so did him. His beast finally hit, he felt the impact, and the blazing fire. The creature fell from the skies, taking him with it. 

Darkness welcomed him. It's soft embrace so tempting. And the Ninth did not fought it. He was too tired. And there was nothing left to fight for.

_Celebrimbor._ The name popped in his mind. Though, what it meant, he wasn't sure. 

After that, everything was calm. He drifted into blissful nothingness, for how long he could not tell. There was peace, but there was also desire. As if something was missing. 

_Celebrimbor._ Once again, the name appeared on his thoughts. He could still not recall why, but it seemed important. 

He suddenly didn't have the time to think about it. He was falling again. To what, he didn't know. Still, he could feel the weight of gravity, even if there was no wind dancing around his body. 

Darkness turned into a toxic green as he was dragged trough nothing and he felt the pull of magic on him once more. Something called to him. 

• • •

The Ninth wakes up with irons binding his wrists. Head spiralling a bit and eyes burning. The place was quite dark, with wet walls, floor and roof of dark grey stone. He was sitting on a small stool, two guards in front of him on either side, swords drawn. He could feel the spirits of two more behind him too. They looked tense. Like all Men were when facing a Nazgûl. 

But why would they? Why capture one of the Nine when he was bound to die? 

And that's when he notice. As he thought about death, his final death, he notice he could no longer feel it. His throat was not split anymore. No blood soaked his dark robes. No pain. No death. 

Why? Why was he not dead? With his former master destroyed there was no magic to banish him from death any longer. Unless... No. No Men would hold the power to do so, to maintain him alive. And those were Men. Mortal. 

But... Who were they? He saw no White Tree or rohirrim adornment on the armours. Nor did it's style looked like any style of armour he knew. 

Taking a better look around didn't reveal much more. Appart from the cells on right and left, he couldn't see much. He could feel, though. There was a sound of water dripping on stone and a dampness to the air that indicated he was underground. 

A dungeon? Who would keep a Nazgûl in a dungeon? 

Green light suddenly shines through his hand, a sharp pain coming with it. He held the noise that threatened to escape and tried to analyse it. Magic. Pure and ancient magic, unlike any he had known. And he felt it on his bones. Upon closer inspection, the toxic green light actually seemed to come from his hand, instead of shining through it. 

How had it got there? 

There was no time to think. Footsteps were approaching. Quick, rushed. Angry. The door was open without much care. Two women entered the room. The first, looking determined, was clad in purple and pink shirt and trousers under a armour adorned with a big white eye on it. The other woman had a light armour, chain mail and leather, and a hood made of purple cloth. There was also a large brooch, marked with an eye. She seemed more analytical. Rational. 

The Eye? Was this Sauron's doing? 

Both of them started circling around him, like sharks. Trying to intimidate him, perhaps. Or just studying him with care. He couldn't tell. 

The one with eye-armour was the first to make a move, in the end, bending down to speak closer to his ear. 

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now" her voice was harsh and commanding. But there was also anger. Loss, even. "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead, except for you." 

The Ninth did not speak. He didn't know what to say. He didn't wished to live, not necessarily. He couldn't find it in his heart to argue for his cursed life to be spared. Yet, there was also the matter of this Conclave. He did not attended anything. Much less whatever a Conclave may be. 

"Explain this" she grabbed his glowing hand and tossed again on his lap. Her voice now furious. This was an interrogation. She was trying to interrogate him. A Nazgûl. Did she not know who he was? What he was. 

Perhaps not. 

But... How? Where on Middle Earth could he be that Sauron's servants weren't known? 

**"I can not"** he decided to say, voice metallic and inhuman, as always. It was clearly not what anyone on the room expected. The woman near him flinched, backing off immediately, taking a minute to regain composure. 

"W-what do mean you can't?" 

**"I don't know what it is"** he admitted **"nor how it got attached to my hand."**

"You're lying!" she yelled, jumping on him without much care for herself. Probably trusting on the handcuffs. Or just blind with emotion. The Ninth could see pain on her eyes as she grabbed him by the chestplate of his armour. 

The calmer woman pulled the other from him, holding her for a bit. "We need... _Him._ Cassandra" she seemed to struggle a little with how to refer to the Nazgûl. The Ninth could not blame her. 

**"Where I am?"** he asked. Curiosity, and a bit of concern, voicing themselves. All he wanted in truth was to go back to the nothing he was drifting in before. First, he needed to know a few key thing: _where he was, why he has alive._

"Do you remember what happened?" the calmer woman questioned, emphatic, but not aggressive. "How this begun." 

**"I..."** he tried to recall something, anything **"I don't."** still, he kept pushing, fighting his mind. All he could remember was Mount Doom and nothing, at first. As he kept trying, fragments started to emerge. Disorganised and confusing, but there. Memories, bits of memories, that didn't really fit together. **"I remember a bridge. Then darkness? Green light. There were... creatures. Chasing me. And... A woman?"**

"A woman?" 

**"She... She reached out to me. She was bright."** _Like a wraith..._ He though. 

_Celebrimbor._

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana." the woman in pink, Cassandra, said. She seemed more in control now, less angry. Though her posture was still rigid. "I'll take him to the Rift." 

Leliana left the room, not without giving Cassandra a look first. The remaining woman sighed and proceed to get the keys. The Ninth could feel the guards more alert as she got closer and uncuffed him. One of them fetched a rope, that she used to bind his wrists again. 

**"What truly happened?"**

"Come, it will be easier to show you." she pulled a little on her end of the rope, as if to encourage him to follow. Which he did. The Ninth followed her through the stone corridor, to stairs that led up, into some sort of building that had few doors and lots of candles and empty spaces. 

Out side, the light of the sun blinded him a bit. Yet he felt drawn to look at the sky. Magic pulling on him in a weird and unfamiliar way. It wasn't domination. He felt no Will behind it. It was like gravity trying to pull him up. And when his eyes finally adjusted to the clarity, he saw it. A massive green vortex on the sky. Swirling with pure magic. So unnatural, but not like the Witch King's magic. Not tainted and distorted. It was... _Wrong._

"We call it the Breach." Cassandra explained. "It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour." The word demons caught his attention. What were those? He felt disgust on her voice as she said it, so it couldn't be any good. "It's not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.” 

Again with that word. What was a Conclave? He could ask... However, there were still more pressing issues to enquire. **“An explosion can do that?”**

“This one did." she ensured. "Unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world.” 

The Ninth blinked. Not sure of what to think. End of the world wasn't good. Had he slept and woke up to the Dagor Dagorath? _Was that Morgoth escaping?_ If so, what was he supposed to do? He didn't even knew _on which side_ he was supposed to fight. 

All those thoughts vanish, though, as the mark on his hand awoke, bursting with green energy. The pain coming in pulsing waves, as the sky itself seemed to be tore open a bit more. He could feel that, the expansion of the said Breach. Like fire running through his veins, consuming him. He could barely hold the shriek that formed on his throat. 

Cassandra approaches the Ninth and kneels as he reels on the snowy ground, his hand buried on the white snow, in a attempt of easing the pain. She hesitates a bit, concern showing on her features. Most likely not for the figure before her. 

She shakes it off anyways and gets to his level to talk, looking the Ninth in the eyes. “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads… and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this but there isn’t much time.” 

Her eyes begged. Desperation showing through her tough exterior. She was serious, wasn't she? Whatever the Breach was, he could feel it's magic expanding, consuming the sky. He was connected to it, somehow, by the thing on his hand.

**"That's why you need me"** he concluded. He was a key to their salvation. To stop whatever was happening. Was this some kind of test or second chance given by the Valar? _What fuck was even happening?_ He was lost, in a unknown land and there was a rift on the sky! He was supposed to be dead! So what was this? Some sort of _joke?_

"Yes." 

He sighed. Dying wasn't a bad thing. It was peace. He had lived much more than he should. Still... How could he go back to nothingness while the Breach swallowed this place? After all the destruction he helped cause, he surely owed the world a bit, no? Plus, he still didn’t know what was happening. Maybe dying wouldn't be permanent. 

**"I...”** he hesitated. **“Understand."**

"Then..." 

**"I'll do what I can"** he said. He needed to know where he was and why. Helping wouldn’t hurt. Maybe it would even spare him some pain. Also, something deep on himself told him that it was the right thing to do. 


	2. The Beginning, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On which the Ninth meets a beardless Dwarf, a wizard Elf and not very nice Man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm more excited about this than I first thought. I don't think I'll be posting every two days, but I also have no clear schedule. We'll see.
> 
> Well, I hope you enjoy it!

_They have decided your guilt._ Cassandra had said on the way to the forward camp. The Ninth could understand why. He knew himself to be a frightening figure. And if what the woman said was the truth... Their leaders dead. This Divine, she seemed to be important. And good. He looked evil, was easy to blame him. But even if he couldn't remember anything, he was sure this was not his doing.

His Ring of Power was nowhere to be seen, but it was probably just a fancy piece of jewellery by now. Completely useless. And missing, much to his surprise. It raised the question of how was he even alive, but it answered if he could indeed blow up a building and tear the sky open. The answer was no. Which was actually a relief.

He still had to later ask if they had the Ring, just to be safe. And it would be nice to have his sword and dagger again too.

Maybe he could solve this without much of a problem. Cassandra had even promised him a trial, not the he planned to stick around for it. It was a sign of good faith, nonetheless. And it was appreciated.

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach” she had said. So they continued to follow along the path. Walking through the snowy landscape, only stopping once, when the Breach expanded again. But quickly resuming their journey.

She was explaining a bit about what she knew had happened, about the Conclave, which was apparently a diplomatic meeting to discuss peace, and about when they found the Ninth stumbling out of a rift, a female figure behind him. Which was all very weird and just made the Ninth consider if he was even in _Middle Earth_ still.

That was when the bridge they were crossing collapsed though. Something like a green meteor, again with meteor, hitting the structure with full force, sending both of them down, to the frozen river below.

Another green magical rock fell, hitting the ice this time, but not breaking it. To his surprise. Apparently the ice was _harder_ than a stone bridge. But he paid no attention to it, as there was a pool of dark liquid, boiling on the ice without heat. Green flashes and crystal like structures were escaping from it. Cassandra immediately drawn her sword and got her shield. Not long after, a horrid tall creature emerged from it. With greyish skin and a enormous hunchback, covered by dark rags. The thing felt weird to his senses. Not quite alive, not dead. Not really corporeal, but with a body. And it felt wrong. Not quite like the Breach. It felt distorted. _Twisted._

“Stay behind me!” she ordered him, not giving a chance for an argument as she charged. Apparently not very impressed by the creature.

And she was a skilled warrior, he would give her that. The metal of her sword slashed the creature while she used the shield to block any attack. The thing seemed to be relatively hard to kill though. Not succumbing to the first two blows.

And as she dealt with it, a new black boiling pool formed in front of the Ninth.

He quickly looked around, searching for something to use to defend himself. His eyes set upon a large sword among the debris of the bridge. It wasn't Urfael, but it would do. So he picked it up and got ready to fight.

The creature, a demon he presumed, moved fairly fast for it's weird anatomy. And it swung it's big arms, with clawed fingers, a lot. Still, the Ninth had decades of practice fighting against scarier things. He ducked away from it's blow and attacked it's back, knowing well it wouldn't be enough. He kept moving, not letting the creature, demon, get too close. Using it's clumsiness, he managed to deliver two more blows on it's side and back. The final one was given shortly after Cassandra defeated her own demon, as he buried the sword on the thing's neck. The demon melted away and it's body vanished, like it had never been there. Which... Was strange. He had _felt_ it's flesh under his blade, how could it all just _cease_ to exist?

“Drop your weapon" said Cassandra, approaching with sword and shield still ready for a fight. " _Now!_ ”

 **“You said you need me to close the Breach"** he said, laying down the sword on the ground, showing her he meant no harm. **"I suppose you need me alive."**

She glared him, eye to eye, apparently studying what to do for a while. She eventually sighed, sheathing her sword. “You’re right" she said defeated. "I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenceless.” She turned around, facing the path ahead, pausing a minute to look back at him. “I should remember... You agreed to come willingly.”

They followed the path after their detour, encountering a few more demons, most different from the first ones, working together to slay them. The distrust was still there, but the Ninth thought that maybe if it wasn't, they could've been a good duo.

The snow and the wind didn't really bother the Ninth, but he was impressed she could keep up. Cassandra never slowed down. She kept going, guiding him through the valley. She was really determined. Of course, he thought. This was her world about to end. Not everyone had lived more than they should, fewer were truly ready to die.

As they followed up a hill, she said “We’re getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting.”

And indeed he could. The sound of metal and arrows cutting the air, a crossbow by the mechanic noise, ice cracking and guttural noises, probably from demons. The mark on his hand shone once again, though without bringing him any pain this time. It just seemed to react to whatever was the Rift waiting for them.

When they reached the fight, there was a huge emerald green crystal, floating amidst toxic green light. The Rift, most certainly. Three people fought. A soldier, like those from before, a short one with a crossbow, a _beardless dwarf?_ And a bald man with a... _Staff?_ Shooting fire from it. _A Maia?_ No... There wasn't that kind of power on him. It was softer. It wasn't a wraith either, he would be able to tell. That was definitely magic. And no one seemed alarmed by it. What kind of sorcery was that?

There was no time to find out. More black pools and green crystals popped, bring demons with them. Some made of magma, others really tall and bony with green skin, a few were like the first one. The Ninth leapt into action, facing one of the green ones. His sword carved it's fleshless leg and the thing shrieked, almost like a Nazgûl. Thankfully, the Ninth was still a Nazgûl himself, and unlike his captors he wasn't stunned by the piercing sound. Which didn't seemed to go unnoticed by the wizard. Sorcerer.

He charged while the demon wasn't paying attention, gutting and slicing it until it finally died. The demons weren't really a challenge. He didn't knew much about his old life, but he knew he had faced his own kind before falling into Sauron's grasp. This demons were nothing in comparison. Still, they demanded some effort.

He only hesitated when he faced the magma one. Not sure of how to fight it when it would melt his sword. Thankfully, the wizard of the group noticed it, elegantly manoeuvring his staff to cast a spell. The fire-thing froze in place, a thin layer of ice trapping it, and the Ninth attacked. And so did the wizard. In no time, the creature succumbed, melting away like it had never been there, as all demons apparently did.

As the dwarf killed the last demon with a well placed arrow on it's head, the other male quickly moved towards the Ringwraith, taking him by his marked hand. With him so close, he could see the pointy ears so characteristically Eldar. Yet, he had not the grace of one. He felt... Almost mortal. _Almost._

“Quickly, before more come through!” the elf said, guiding the wraith to the Rift.

When they got close to it, the bright green light blinding the Ninth, the strange elf thrust his hand towards the said Rift. It immediately reacted to the sudden move, sparkling with green light, a beam of it connecting the hand to the glowing rock that floated before him. It wasn't painful, but it was strange. He could feel the ancient power, manifesting as small lightning running through his fingers. It felt a bit like closing a door, a heavy old door that didn't wanted to be closed, but it eventually did. The green glowing rock collapsed on itself, disappearing on thin air, along with all the crystals and boiling pools.

 **“How did you...”** he started asking the elf, letting the question die as he didn't even knew what to ask.

“I did nothing" he ensured. "The credit is yours.”

 **“You mean this"** he said while looking at his marked hand.

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that mark on your hand." the elf said, a nod to confirm the Ninth's question. "I theorized the mark might be able to close the Rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake, and it seems I was correct.”

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself" Cassandra spoke up.

“Possibly" answered the elf, then turning to look at the Ninth. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

“Good to know!” exclaimed the dwarf, as he approached. And there was no doubt that he was beardless. Yet, something told the Ninth that it wasn't the first time he saw a beardless dwarf. “And here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever.” he said with humour, though there was some truth to his tone too. “Varric Tethras" said him, turning to face the Ninth, who found it weird for someone to have two names like that. He knew some Men in Eriador had such family names, the little ones did it too, but he wouldn't expect it from a dwarf. "Rogue, storyteller, and occasional unwelcome tag along."

The wraith saw the dwarf wink at Cassandra, who then scowled. “Absolutely not.” she said, sounding like a command more than anything. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but-“

Varric quickly cut her off. “Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.”

“Ugh.” Her face would set in an irritated expression every time she looked at him. The male didn't seem to care though. He looked more interested on the Ninth himself.

"So, what's your name?" he asked.

 _Now, how would he answer that?_ His name was long forgotten. Along with his mortal life. He was the Ninth Nazgûl, the Undying*. He was lucky that he was the youngest of the Nazgûl, the only one who still had a proper body. Who could see. How _pathetic_ it was, to be caught off guard by such thing. The Witch-king would laugh at him for such foolishness. For caring about his past life, about a mortal name...

But he was dead, wasn't he? Killed by the shield-maiden and one of the little ones. And the Ninth was free. That much he knew. So what did it mattered what the Witch-king would've thought?

 **"I don't know"** admitted the Ninth. And it felt a bit strange to say it, but also a relief.

"That's.... Harsh." said the dwarf, now looking quite guilty. Even if it wasn't his fault.

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions" said the elf, breaking the ice that had suddenly surrounded them. "I’m pleased to see you still live.”

“He means, he kept that mark from killing you while you slept" Varric clarified.

 **“Then I owe you my thanks"** he said, even if death was a _complex_ subject for him. The intention is what matters, in the end. The elf had wasted his time on him, he was grateful for the concern, at least.

“Thank me if we can close the Breach without killing you in the process" Solas said a bit bitterly, though it didn't seemed directed at anyone in particular. The Ninth begged to differ, though. He would be very content with helping and then dying, and staying dead. “Cassandra" Solas called, pulling the Nazgûl from his thoughts, "you should know, the magic here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is _quite_ the mystery, but he doesn't seem to be a proper trained mage, at least. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine _any_ mage having such power.”

“Understood." she answered, glaring the Ninth a bit. "We must get to the forward camp, quickly.”

Those people truly didn't know what he was. It wasn't a surprise by this point. Not really. He had never seen a demon, never heard of one. And they were precisely the type of creature Sauron would use if available. He should at least know about them, right? It made him think if this was truly Middle Earth, which was an _absurd_ thought.

“Well" started Varric, "Bianca’s excited.”

Cassandra led them through the snowy and demon infested path that crossed the valley. The Ninth could feel eyes on him, though they didn't seem to distrust him enough for it to get in the way during fights. Good enough, perhaps.

“So, are you innocent?” asked Varric, while they where getting up a hill.

 **“I can’t remember what happened”** he explained. **"Though I doubt I would be attending peace talks."**

Varric chuckled. “You should have come up with a story.”

 **"I've been told I'm not a good liar"** he said, not even sure of who had told him that. It wasn't like he could lie to Sauron or even to the Witch-king.

“We’re almost there" warned Solas.

It wasn't long until the Ninth could see a large wooden gate, which was unfortunately behind yet another Rift. He couldn't remember the last time he had fought so much on a day. Literally. Being a Nazgûl meant he had spent more time seeking the Ring then actually fighting. It was... Good. In way.

The fight wasn't really a challenge. More demons. He ducked, slashed, rolled, blocked and sliced. His muscles moving on their own accords.

This time, though, it was him that reached out to the Rift, closing it in a show of green light and crystals. The sensation was somewhat familiar. And he wished he could tell why.

“We are clear for the moment" Cassandra shouted to her people, who then proceeded to open the gates.

“Whatever that thing on your hand is, it sure is useful.” said Varric. And the wraith could agree if that.

Their little party got through the gates, walking towards Leliana. The others got a weird bottle each and offered one to the Ninth too. They drank it and whatever small injures they had were healed. The wraith glared the strange red liquid and refused. He wasn't even hurt anyways. And he wasn't sure he wanted unknown sorcery in his being, not any more.

The group kept moving, until they got to a table, where the red-headed woman, Leliana, seemed to be arguing with a man.

“ _Ah_ , here they come" said the man with little to no patience.

“You made it" said Leliana. "Chancellor Roderick, this is-“

The man gave her no chance of finishing it, as he interrupted raising his voice. _“I know what it is"_ he said with disgust as he glared the Ninth. "As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this _creature_ to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

OK, so... Maybe things would end up going sour after all.

 _“Order me?"_ growled Cassandra. "You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!”

“And you are a _thug_ , but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor,” Leliana chimed in, “as you well know.”

“Justinia is _dead!_ " he said, sound almost like he was pleading. "We must elect her replacement, and obey her orders on the matter.”

The Ninth observed the situation, as the two women argued with the man. He wasn't going to interrupt. Just like he hadn't when the Witch-king died and one of the Númenórean Nazgûl questioned Khamûl's leadership. Let them solved it by themselves. Charge with the soldiers or cross the mountain path. He was too tired to have an opinion on the matter.

Unfortunately, his captors seemed to have a different opinion.

"What do you think?" Cassandra asked him.

He blinked a few times, not sure of what to say. **"Why you are asking me?"**

“You’re the one with the mark" pointed out Solas.

“And the one we must keep alive” Cassandra added, ignoring an scandalized Chancellor. “Since we cannot decide on our own...”

Fair enough, he supposed. Though now he had to decide their fate. He had heard about lost scouts on the mountains, saving them would be a good thing to do. Yet, what about the losses of using the army as bait? Using others as a distraction was never his style.

 **"Let's charge"** he said. **"I would not use your soldiers as distraction."**

“Leliana, bring everyone left in the valley" Cassandra requested, she seemed to agree with the Ninth on the matter, for she looked quite relived. " _Everyone_ ,” she reaffirms.

The Chancellor, on the other hand, didn't seemed to be very happy. However, the Ringwraith suspected that nothing, aside of his permanent death, would make that man happy. And he truly could relate.

“On _your_ head be the consequences, Seeker" The Chancellor said bitterly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *On 2001's game The Lord of the Rings Strategy Battle Game they name all Nazgûl and one of them is The Undying. I wanted to reference that, but also I just don't think Talion would still be Talion, the Gravewalker. Specially with this fandom's head canons about the way Talion sees orcs, which I'll totally use here. Not just cause I like it, but because I cared about my orcs while playing the game too. So here, the Gravewalker is a symbol of hope and freedom for orcs, one that Sauron wouldn't take kindly. That's why Talion became the Undying.
> 
> Also, Undying is closer to how he is called on the translation to my mother language. He is Nunca Morto, Never Dead on my country's version. 
> 
> That's also a good time to say: English is not my first language. So any errors might be because of that. Feel free to point them out.
> 
> With that said, see you soon. Maybe sooner than any of us expect... Who knows?


	3. The Beginning, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the beginning. The Ninth and his companions reach the Temple of Sacred Ashes to seal the Breach.

The Ninth could hear the sounds of battle as they got up the stairs. Leliana had not let him and Cassandra join the front lines, arguing it would only put the Ninth at risk, along with their only chance to save the world. Neither warrior was happy with it, but they agreed. Taking a safer path through the mountains, just behind the soldiers. Solas and Cassandra would always keep an eye on him, while Varric told them stories about him and his brother that nothing but confirmed that they weren't on Middle Earth, nor could they be anywhere on Arda. 

But one problem at a time.

When they finally reached the temple, there was yet another Rift on their way. They leaped into action, but soldiers had killed most of the demons already, so it didn't take long for the wraith to seal them away once more. He was getting used to the feeling of it. And the strangeness of demons.

"You are becoming quite proficient at this" said the elf, Solas. He seemed fairly impressed, if anything. As if he didn't expect it.

"Let's hope it's works on the big one" said Varric, only half hopeful.

When they were done, a new figure approached. A Man, he could tell. Clad in armour and red clothes and fur. "Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the Rift? Well done."

"Do not congratulate me, Commander" Cassandra said. "This is the prisoner's doing" she clarified. And the Ninth could see, as she looked at him a little sparkle of trust on her yes. Perhaps not exactly trust, but appreciation.

"Is it?" The man asked a little uncertain. "I hope they're right about you. We've lost a lot of people getting you here."

 **"I'll do my best to help"** assured the wraith, though he wasn't sure if meant anything to this Commander.

The blonde man eyed him a bit, but he was clearly trying to hide it. As if he didn't wanted to be caught judging the Nazgûl. "That's all we can ask" he said, before turning again to Cassandra. "The way to the temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there."

"Then we'd best move quickly" she said. "Give us time, Commander."

"Maker watch over you" he said after nodding. Then he turned to the Ninth, even if he didn't seem to be addressing him. "For all our sakes."

Their group proceeded to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, as it was called, leaving the Commander behind. The whole place as just a ruin, the wraith would had never been able to tell this was a working building just sometime ago. A place good enough to house peace meetings between two apparently powerful factions. The mages and Templars, Cassandra had told him. Mages were apparently what they called sorcerers, and Templars.... He had no idea what they did. He could ask later. If there was a later, that is.

The _smell_ hit him first. The burnt and strangely sweet, though not in a pleasant way, smell. He later saw the bodies. Burnt beyond recognition. Paralysed in positions of despair. Some were crawling away from the building when they died. Some were sitting, running. All had died before they could even notice. _What kind of explosion did that?_

As they followed down, into the temple, a red light hung in the air, coming from red crystals that seemed to have erupted from the soil. They had the strangest energy. Corrupted, alive, trying to spread. Yet, it was toned down. He could feel the Rift, or better saying, the Breach before he laid eyes on it. He could feel the ancient and uncontrolled power lashing out, like it was river water breaking a dam.

_So powerful._

That's when he saw, the green crystal-like portal to the world of demons. High above the ground. Light dancing around it like mist, tying it up to the hole in the sky. He could see massive debris from the temple floating on the mist-like light. The Ninth could only hope those wouldn't fall on him for once.

Getting closer, he could see they were actually on a mezzanine of sorts. The floor where they had access to the first Rift was downwards, around ten meters downwards. They would need to get there so he could get close enough for his mark to work.

"This Rift is the first one, and should be the key" explained Solas. But he could _feel_ it. It was the key. This could work.

Problem was... It was _too_ powerful. He wasn't sure he could close it, or if he could survive trying. And he couldn't just die and let it open, right? He had to be careful.

“You’re here!" he heard Leliana's voice saying. "Thank the Maker.”

“Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple.” Cassandra instructed, and the other woman nodded and left to take care of things. “Let’s find a way down."

They searched a bit, until the Ninth found a seemingly reliable path, circling around the lower floor. There was more of the red crystals on the way, bigger, reaching twice his height. Varric murmured something about not touching it, but even if he had not, the wraith was not going near that stuff. It felt a bit like a disease, trying to spread to living things. And he would not be the one test what it would do on living, or at least not dead, bodies.

 _“Now is the our of our victory"_ a baritone filled the temple. Seemingly out of nowhere. _"Bring forth the sacrifice."_

He saw his companions stop on their tracks, looking around, he had done the same. Yet, there was no one.

" _Who_ was that?" asked Varric.

"At a guess?" Solas sounded slightly apprehensive. "The person who created the breach" he explained.

As they continued, the Ninth got a little too close of one of the red crystals. And he heard it _sing_. The strange thing was _singing_. A terrible song. He could swear that thing never new happiness, for it sounded so utterly lonely and bitter that it could not be anything but miserable.

 _"Keep them still"_ he heard the same mysterious voice from before echo again.

This time, though, a second voice followed. A woman's voice. Sounding hurt and despaired. _"Someone, help me!”_

Cassandra stopped, blinking a few times. “That is Divine Justinia’s voice" she said. 

"That's impossible, right?" asked Varric.

No one answered. The wraith suspected that maybe no one knew the answer. This Divine was supposedly dead. Killed on the explosion. Could it be a trick? Sorcery at work? He knew not. All they could do was keep moving forward and look around.

They finally found a way down. One that would need jumping, but it wouldn't break anyone's leg in the process. They dropped down into the lower floor, where they could get access to the Breach, or it's lock.

As they were approaching the green crystal-like rift the Divine's voice called for help again. This time though, there were new voices.

 _"Talion?"_ asked a male voice. It was... Familiar. And exasperated.

**_"What is the meaning of this?"_ **

That was _his_ voice. There was no denying it. Only a Nazgûl would have that voice, metallic, unnatural, seeming to come from more the one mouth, but not quite sounding like two voices.

“That was your voice!" Cassandra said. "Most holy called out to you. But-"

A flash of light cut her off, coming from the Rift. Figures started to form, but it was no demon. Only spectral images of an old woman with an enormous hat and a dark silhouette with bright red eyes.

 _"Keep them still"_ said the male voice from before. It came from the shadowy figure.

 _"Someone one!"_ cried out the Divine. _"Help me!"_

She was held by red light, unable to move, like the dark one ordered. Yet, there was no one else in sight. It seemed like she was trying to fight whatever sorcery tied her, but it was useless.

Then a double door appeared, opening without much ceremony. It was him. Dark armour and black cloth, blaze-like eyes and a green glow around his body. _**"What is the meaning of this?"** _he demanded again, sword in hand. Or for the first time, actually.

 _"Run while you can, warn them!"_ she said desperately.

 _"Talion?"_ That voice again. Sounding weak and sad. It came from a glowing light blue figure. It was hard to distinguish his form, though. He was held just like the Divine, red light.

He _knew_ that voice. It made his head and chest ache and he had no idea why.

_Who was that?_

_“We have an intruder. Kill him. Now."_ The dark figure ordered someone they could not see. And that was the end of it.

Green light flashed again. The scene disappeared. Cassandra quickly turned to face him.

"You were there!" she said, and the Ninth could see a million thoughts running through her mind. "Who attacked? And the Divine... is she? Is this vision true? What are we seeing?”

 **"I don’t know."** He still couldn't remember. He kept trying to dig up something. Anything! Yet, all he got was a headache. Like he was hitting his head on a wall.

“Echoes of what happened here" Solas explained, stepping forward. "The Fade bleeds into this place.” He then turns to face the Ninth, “This Rift is not sealed, but it is closed… Albeit temporarily. I believe with the mark, the Rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

"That means demons" Cassandra warned her people, pushing aside all her doubts and getting ready for a fight. They had to deal with the Breach. Anything else could wait. "Stand ready!”

The wraith watched as archers got ready on the upper levels and some soldiers on the ground got their sword. He waited for everyone to get ready, then raised his marked hand. The beam of green light appeared, connecting him with the Rift. He felt what Solas had said. He would not be able to close it without opening it first.

It felt like a door, like the others, but something was pulling it open. It was resisting, but if he wanted to lock it, he would have to let it get opened and fight what got out.

So instead of trying to close the door, this time he pushed to open it. The raw power running through him made his hand shake, but he kept pushing. And he felt something pulling too. Something more powerful than the demons he had faced so far.

When the Rift finally opened, green lightning sparkled, hinting the ground near. A massive creature appeared on the spot, the size of a troll, with seven eyes, four big horns and grey skin. Not exactly skin too. It looked hard and made the wraith think about lizards, but it wasn't really scaled.

The creature _laughed_ , purple lightning sparkling all around it, before stepping forward, on their direction.

"Now!" shouted Cassandra, branding her sword towards the beast. The archers released a steam of arrows at her command, but the thing was almost unaffected. Almost.

The thing was targeting them now, moving fast. The Ninth got his sword and ran towards the beast. It summoned a sort of whip, purple and made of lightning. He dodged the whip, rolling to the side just in time for it to miss him.

The Ninth saw the burnt ground where the lighting-made weapon hit as he attacked the creature's back, before it turned towards him. Cassandra charged too. And he heard the characteristic sounds of Varric's crossbow and Solas' staff. The sorcerer was able to freeze the thing's hand and the wraith took advantage, sliding between its legs to get to its back. He missed his dagger then. Improvising, he used an arrow to puncture the leg and then slashed the back.

The creature, probably a demon, growled. Purple lighting appeared on its body, concentrating between the big hands. He felt the lighting magic chance, turn into skin, hardened skin.

When a well placed arrow was about to settle on its head, it bounced of on the stop that another one had previously buried itself. It was like the creature's skin was now harder, like leather armour. The demon could modify magic? And then use it to change its own body? Reshape it. From lighting to armour.

"We have to strip its defences!" warned Cassandra.

He knew _that_. Problem was, how? Hitting the demon until they got through its skin would work, yes. But there had to be another way.

While he analysed possibilities, the creature pulled out on magic from the Rift and began concentrating it on a black and purple orb. It laughed again before sending the energy ball in Cassandra's direction. She was really giving it a hard time, actually.

She used her shield to block the attack, her foot work perfect to support the impact. Her shield got marked by grime, but she seemed mostly fine.

 _Wait!_ The magic! It came from the Rift, of course! But what to do with that? How to make it stop?

 **"Master Solas!"** he called the elf, trying to speak louder than the noises of the conflict. **"Is there a way to cut him off the Rift's magic?"**

"Perhaps!" the elf yelled while casting a fire spell. "Try focusing on the demon's connection with the Rift!"

The Ninth left the demon to the others and ran to the Rift, ready to test the theory. Once again he connected with it, green light and shaking hand, but this time he didn't tried to close nor open the door. He focused on the demon, like Solas said. And there it was, the connection. That creature could enter the world, but apparently it needed to pull something from home.

He couldn't close the Rift, but he could cut the connection the demon had with it. His hand was once again shaking, but the Rift didn't resist him much. The connection faded and crystal-like structure exploded in a harmless wave of green light.

The demon fell on its knee, alive, but weak. And the Ninth felt, as the Rift reassembled itself, the connection beginning to mend.

"It worked!" Varric yelled joyful, attacking the beast with his arrows.

 **"But not for long"** he replied.

They kept attacking the fallen demon and didn't even notice the two new ones until Solas froze one that was about to attack Cassandra. It was one of those dressed in rags. The only ones with clothing, actually.

They were fast and stalked Cassandra and the wraith, as if trying to protect the larger demon. Both warriors fought them with ease, the archers helping from the upper levels. Yet, by the time they finished, the other demon was back on its feet.

It laughed as he made another purple orb of energy, launching it towards the Ringwraith and the woman, who were now close.

A light blue light surrounded them both, a wall, like a protective layer. Cassandra prepared herself for the impact, standing behind her shield, and the Ninth rolled to side.

The attack landed on the ground, beside Cassandra, between her and the wraith. There wasn't even grime on them. The light had disappeared too.

Impressive, but something to question later. Right now he needed to keep fighting.

As the fight went on, a pattern formed. The demon established the connection with the Rift once more, the Ninth cut it off, the demon got vulnerable, lesser demons appeared and back to the start.

The creature did seemed to get weaker as time went on. But on the fourth cycle of the fight, everyone was getting tired. It had to end now.

So the Ninth went to the Rift, before the demon had time to gather enough magic to shield itself. It should probably work. He waved his hand towards the crystals, the beam of light connecting him to it, and cut off the demon once more.

The creature fell, like the other times, but the wraith could tell it was more vulnerable now. He could always tell when an enemy was weak.

So he charged towards the demon, but not face on. There was a pillar where the Rift stood and he used it to circle around and get to the demon's back. The archers were distracting it, so it was fairly easy to get there and jump on it's back, using the enormous scales and spikes on it to climb to the top.

The demon got on its feet, moving erratically in an attempt to get the wraith off of itself. But the Ninth hold on and got to the top. He buried his sword on the demon's head with all his strength and the creature stopped moving. The giant demon fell, hinting the ground without much sound or impact, as if it weighted nothing.

It's body suddenly evaporated, turning into green shards of light that went back to the Rift. The Ninth fell graciously on the floor and proceeded to the Rift itself.

It was time to try to close it.

He raised his hand towards it once again, the Rift reacting as it always did. And he poured all his strength into closing it. However, the thing was resisting. It felt liking trying to move a rock.

But he kept trying. He needed to seal it.

His hand and mind ached. The hand seemingly burning, like he was touching fire and his head spinning. The world around him was blurring and he felt a weight on his body.

Flashes, images passed on his mind, too quickly for him to catch anything. A bridge in Mordor, the Divine, an empty corridor from a fortress, Minas Morgul, the Black Gate, even the White City, before the War of the Ring.

He felt lost. The flood of memories never stopping. His mind was about to burst and he felt a shriek scape from his throat.

 _"Talion"_ he heard a voice on his mind. The voice from the vision.

Something was reaching out to him, touching what was left of his soul. The memories calmed, not much, but enough for him to focus on his task, sealing the Rift.

The door to the world of demons snapped, sending green light up, to the Breach. He felt the presence that called him going weaker, fading away. His own strength was failing too, slipping. Darkness filled his world and took him. 

  
_Find me._

**Celebrimbor.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Talion will be dealing with everything that happened, now that the immediate danger has passed.
> 
> Also, Talion being a wraith would be able to notice much more than the average person and as much on Dragon Age is still a mystery, I'll be using some theories or my own assumptions about the lore and this world works. If you disagree with such assumptions, feel free to tell me why.
> 
> Constructive criticism, feedback are always welcomed. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	4. Exchanged Fates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fates are exchanged and some people understand more about their new paths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I decided, out of nowhere, to rewrite everything. And I mean everything. Cause, honestley, Corypheus needed some fixing. That's why it took me longer to post. Sorry.

The air was cold and dry, he could feel it on his skin, though it didn't really bothered him. His flesh no longer held the heat all living things had. The very clima had the same effect on him as colours. They were there, sure, he could usually see them. Didn't really changed anything though. Even so, he could feel a heavy piece of cloth covering his body. He was also laying on something soft, a bed? Rustic, but comfy, harm, there was some fur too. He tried to move around, get into a more comfortable position, but his whole body immediately protested. Everything hurt. Suddenly, he was aware of every part of his anatomy, all of them burning at the smallest of moves. He had never felt like that. Well... Not that he could remember, at least. Every muscle was strained. _How_ , he couldn't understand. It wasn't like physical activity could get him to even break a sweat. Still, he felt like a Man would after running from Minas Morgul to Osgiliath. Utterly wracked. Surely, something mystical was to blame, he just...The Breach. 

He felt the strange magic coming from his, now glowing, hand, recalling all that had happened since he had woke up at that dungeon. It was real. Yes. The hole on the sky. Cassandra, Varric, Solas... Demons. It felt like the weirdest dream, but it was real. It was all real. He was... 

Where was he? Not anywhere he had been before. Mages, templars, the Divine, demons, he knew nothing about that. And the others made those things sound very important and common knowledge. Also, the elves were leaving to Valinor. What was Solas doing here? Actually, he didn't even felt like an elf. Was he truly one? If not, what was he? His magic was different too, from any he knew. It was all alien to him. Even the very heavens.

Ask. He would ask. There was no point on trying to guess his own whereabouts with little to no information. 

His eyes snapped open when he heard a sudden clack, now realising he hadn't opened them before. He sat quickly on the bed he was laying down, trying to see what caused the sound. He hears a gasp and the sound of feet brushing stone. Unfortunately, his vision was a bit hazy, as he got used to daylight. All he could do was distinguish a nebulous figure. Not very tall, afraid, no magic... No, there was the slightest bit of magic. Less than Solas had, a lot less. But there. Barely.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” said a female voice, rushed and hesitant at the same time. Apologetic. He could almost taste fear on her words, which... Was fair, honestly. Doesn't mean it bothered him though, it was just not her fault. 

**“Don’t worry about it"** he reassured, blinking to try to get his eyes to focus. He tried to sound gentle, but it was a hard task when you sounded like he did. The Ninth could still feel her fear, probably nothing he could say would make her feel better. Yet, he could easily make it _so_ much worst.

“I beg your forgiveness" she said, and he could swear she kneeled, as her figure got shorter and he heard a weight drop on the floor. "I am but a humble servant.” 

**"It's fine"** he tried soothing her worries again, with the same success from before. **"I only–Where am I?"**

“You’re back in Haven, my lord" she said, her voice not exactly weak, but... Uncertain. He didn't say anything about it this time, he wasn't going anywhere with that. Instead he thought about what she could tell. Maybe he could get some information before she panicked. She said he was "back", meaning he was there before. So that village where the dungeon had been, he supposed. Where he had woke up the first time. At least now he was on what seemed to be a bed, under a blanket. Which was strange, but appreciated. "They say you saved us" she continued. And now he could start to see her properly. An elven girl, short hair and a bit too clumsy. And _wrong_. He couldn't even feel the difference between her and a Men! There was something really wrong with this. She had something a woman, like Cassandra, hadn't, a certain magic, like he had noticed before, but it was not elven.

That wasn't a mystery he thought he could crack, though. He focused on what she had said instead. He had saved them.

**“Then the danger is over”** he thought out loud. So he was now bound to face a trial, like Cassandra had promised. Would revealing himself do any good? Or would it make them cast him into a cell? Did this land of mortal elves and wizards even knew what the word Nazgûl meant? Even if there was a chance he could get a death sentence if found guilty, did he _really_ cared? Could he even stay dead?

There were so many questions. It was frustrating not to have a single answer.

“The Breach is still in the sky but that’s what they say" she said, somewhat less hesitant. Yet, he could tell she was still nervous. Really nervous. She was taking steps back and was curled up on herself. Like he was a predator and she was pray. Self preservation moving her body away from him. That was _not_ how an elf would behave facing a Ringwraith. “I’m sure Lady Cassandra will want to know you’ve wakened. She said ‘at once’!” 

**“And where is she?”** he asked. Maybe it was better to talk to her already. The lack of armed guards had to mean something, right? Perhaps he had earned a bit of trust. Or maybe the guards were outside of every window and the front door. Just out of his sight. He could actually feel lots of people outside... 

“I-In the Chantry...with the Lord Chancellor" she said, stumbling as she tried to walk backwards to the door behind her, her hand trying to find first. "At once,’ she said!” She finally reaches the door she so desperately was trying to get to and runs outside without thinking twice about it, closing the door with a loud bang.

This was annoying. The Ninth sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He didn't expect, though, to feel skin against his face. His gauntlet was gone. Actually, his whole armour was gone. He was clad in soft, but thick and warm clothes. A beige, sort of greyish, colour to both the long-sleeved shirt and the trousers. They were not that simple, but they didn't seem to be absurdly expensive either. And, by Eru, it was comfortable to wear something like that for a change. He wasn't sure about how he should feel about that, but right now it was good. 

Looking around, he seemed to be in a simple home. Wooden walls and roof and the floor made of rough stone. There was a desk with some papers to his left and also a chest, a sword resting on it. His sword. Urfael. He got up, going straight to the chest, getting it. The familiarity alone was enough to comfort, but he hadn't forgotten what it had went through when Sauron fell. He unsheathed the blade and analysed it. Intact. The dark bronze ornate blade didn't have even a scratch on it. That was a relief. He had had it since before being a Nazgûl and wasn't ready to say goodbye. Sheathing the sword and setting it aside, he opened the chest to see what was inside. He found his full set of armour, the black cloth he would use as a cloak and Acharn, his dagger. It was a broken sword really, but he had had it for a long time too and it felt important. 

Two things where missing, though. His ring and his Morgul Blade. He had both with him when he got hit by that blazing rock, but, well, who knew what had happened to him between that and waking up on that dungeon? Maybe both got lost along the way, maybe Cassandra had thrown both away feeling the darkness on the two objects. If they even had power on them still. He wasn't yet sure about how Sauron's downfall affected him or his belongings. He was still walking, so some power kept him not dead. Even if he was not as powerful as before. He couldn't pin point where did this power came from, nor what it was, but magic still flowed through him. Actually, it didn't feel different too.

It didn't matter now. One thing at a time. Finding out his missing belongings, his location and closing the Breach for good. Those were his priorities. The rest could wait a while.

The wraith looked at his armour, feeling compelled to wear it, but eventually deciding to leave it there. He would not be needing it and wearing it only made him look more intimidating. He didn't need to be cast into a cell, or to have people freaking out more then they already would. So he only got the cloak, just to protect his eyes from direct sunlight, and Acharn, for good measure. Just in case there was still someone trying to kill him. All the rest was left behind.

Just out of curiosity, he approached the desk to take a look at the papers before heading out. Maybe they were useful. Maybe they were left there for him to read them. They were not. They were just notes from a healer, apparently on him. Adan, was the name signed. The notes themselves were quick and didn't hold much information. Just reports on his health and some comments on his magic. However, a few things got his attention.

> Mage says his scarring "mark" is thrumming with unknown magic. So is his entire body. Wish we could station a templar in here, just in case. 

Again with templars. He was getting curious to know why they were so important. What did they even do? Something to add to the list of questions he should ask Cassandra. Reading further, someone _had_ tried to kill him, apparently. Look at that. He wondered if they actually succeeded. He still didn't knew if he could die a permanent death. One more question. Though... It would be a weird one, for sure. _By the way, did I died while sleeping?_ Well, there was still two more days to read. The day two notes had some interesting things as well, apart from the updates on his condition, though less flashy than an assassination attempt. 

> A lot of thrashing. Mutters about too many eyes. Something about a Celebrimbor too. Encouraging? 

Celebrimbor. Now, that's a name he knew. Eldar name, the name of the elf that Sauron had fooled. He could sometimes feel him, when he was trying to defeat Sauron really hard. Not anymore... They were gone from his head for good. No more would he hear the commands of Sauron, that cruel, yet beautiful voice he had on the Ringwraith's mind. The only voice on his head now was his own.

Wait!

The voice! It was his.

Celebrimbor, the Ringmaker, that was the voice that had called the name Talion on the vision on the temple. That's how he knew the voice! Though... It didn't explain why the mere memory of the elf lord's voice made his heart heavy. Sauron had once showed him to the elven wraith, for what, he did not know. Showing off his second most powerful Nazgûl? Had he showed him the Witch King too? Had they know each other before the Ninth was the Ninth? One more question that would have to wait. He needed to sort things out, but he needed to be patient about it.

Still, finally, an answer. And now he knew it was not only him to be here. Celebrimbor was here. Who else could be here?

Back on the notes, day three, he was surprised that there was one, was pretty uneventful. There were some notes on his improvement, and apparently they wanted to keep him alive, or that was what it said. Probably because of what the elf girl had said, the Breach was not sealed yet. They would need his help again. Not that he wouldn't give it to them. He would. However, if trying and failing got him on bed for three whole days, what kind of power would he need to actually close it? A power he didn't have. He was weaker than usual, sure. But there was no way of telling if he could ever get to his prime again, as Sauron was now defeated. They would need more magic. Well, he should discuss it with Cassandra. She seemed to be in charge, so it was the right thing to do.

It was best to do it already, stop stalling. The Chantry was probably the nice looking building that had the dungeon underneath. It seemed important and the way the girl talked about Cassandra being in the Chantry, not giving any further directions, told him that he was most likely right. If he wasn't, there would be people there for him to ask where to go. So he got a pair of boots that someone left on the side of the bed and headed out.

What he didn't expect was to get out of the cabin to find 20 soldiers lined up, delimiting a path, while what seemed to be more than half the village watched. It was cold, snowing, but they were there. Had they been there all this time? Or had the elf ran around telling everyone to come and see the wraith with a glowing hand? He couldn't really tell which idea was more absurd. He could overhear them talking amidst themselves though. Talking about him. They were clearly interested. He was not sure if it was a good type of interest or just morbid curiosity. 

“That’s him" said a man. "They said when he came out of the Fade, Andraste herself was watching over him.” Andraste? He had heard someone say that before, on this strange land, of course. Who she was, he had no idea. But she was clearly powerful and respected. Did a divine figure gave him that mark on his hand? Some sort of Istari, a Maia, maybe? A Vala? He would have to... Well... Ask.

“Hush!" ordered a woman. "We shouldn’t disturb him.” 

“Why did Lady Cassandra have him in chains? I thought Seekers knew everything.” 

"He gives me a cold feeling" a female voice said as he passed by.

"It's snowing, of course it's cold!" responded a male one.

They seemed a bit uneasy, but respectful. As if he wasn't a magical imortal evil being on a small village, but a visiting commander on an outpost. Someone to be feared, but that was on your side, that wouldn't harm you. He could feel some fear on the air, but it was faint. And maybe it had more to do with the end of the world than with him. Even the soldiers seemed to be more concerned with keeping people in line than with watching him.

He couldn't understand these people...

“It isn’t complicated. Andraste herself send him” he heard another voice on the crowd. And if she was right, it would explain why people were so OK with him. Though he couldn't remember being send by no one, it could also explain what he was doing here. It made some sense. Maybe he just didn't remember her because he also not remember what had happened at all.

“Maker be with you.” Maker, yet another term those people used. Though this one was probably just another way to refer to the Creator, Eru. Right? Everything that was, was because he so had wished. He made the existence, so even if this was not Arda, they would know him. Right?

“Blessings upon you" said a woman to him. 

There were two paths towards the Chantry, but one had a lot more people watching, so he chose the other, turning left and getting up the stairs. They were a bit slippery, ice forming on the stone, but he managed to get up just fine. A soldier saluted him on the way and two more women greeted him, but no one said much else. He entered the building, immediately grateful as the stone-made walls shielded his eyes from direct sunlight. The grand hall was mostly empty. There were lots of candles and some books around the pillars and on the alcoves, but only one woman, who wasn't really paying any attention to him.

At first he wondered where would Cassandra be. There were four doors. Should he just guess? But then, as he got closer to the end of the hall, where all the doors were located, it became clear which one it was.

“Have you gone completely mad?" he heard the Chancellor's loud voice coming from the middle door. " _It_ at the very least should be taken to Val Royeaux, immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine.” 

“I do not believe _he_ is guilty” said Cassandra. Was she defending him? Her voice sounded annoyed, just as much as the Chancellor's, Roderick, that was his name. They were probably arguing for a time now.

“The creature failed, Seeker" he continued. And the Ninth rolled his eyes at the stubbornness of the man, insisting on calling he it and creature. It was annoying, yet somewhat understandable. He was very inhuman, twisted, even. Still, when he finally reached the door, he had walked slowly so he could hear the conversation, he decided he had heard enough. "The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, it intended it this wa—” Roderick manages to say before the Nazgûl opened the door. His voice waves a bit and he lets the word hanging on the air, as he watched the wraith.

The room went silent for a moment. Two soldiers stand guard at the door while Roderick, Cassandra, and Leliana were gathered around a table. Cassandra was silent, analysing him, as for Leliana, she observed Roderick with care, and the man himself seemed to be searching for words as he glared at the Ninth. He was the first to actually do something, pointing angrily at the Nazgûl as he ordered “Chain the demon. I want it prepared for travel to the capital.” 

“Disregard that, and leave us.” Cassandra said quickly as the soldiers approached the wraith, they stopped at her command and saluted before turning around and exiting the room. Roderick, at this point, looked ready to make a scene. His hands were closed into fists and his jaw was clenched tightly, his skin was turning red.

“Have you gone completely mad!?” 

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it. We need his help to close it.” she said, looking straight into his eyes.

**“Until it's sealed, you have it”** he said himself. Cassandra and Leliana both looked pleased, if not relieved, but the man in front of him took it as an affront. He stepped closer, nearly knocking a candle out of the table.

"You have done enough!" he lashed out.

The Ninth made no attempt to move, though. He stud his ground, looking down to Roderick, who hesitated, but also made no move. He was fairly tall, as tall as Men with blood of Númenor, but he felt no indication that he actually had. He would be able to tell. Even so, the Nazgûl himself was pretty tall. 16 to 18 centimetres of difference. Certainly made him stand out, added to his already imposing figure. But Roderick didn't seem to mind. Or if he did, he was good at hiding it.

As none of them backed off, but also neither spoke, the tension wore off and the Chancellor took a deep breath, regaining composure. He than looked back to Cassandra, who was watching them with concern, and continued to pledge “You don't even know what this thing is, Seeker. It could be a demon and you are walking right on its trap!” 

“I will not pretend he is anything but unusual, but Solas has confirmed his is human. Marked by magic almost beyond recognition, but human" she said, her voice weaving with the slightest bit of uncertainty that showed the Ninth that maybe he didn't have her trust just yet. He wasn't offended by it, really. It made sense. The fact that he wasn't in a cell or that they gave back his sword and dagger was prove enough that they were willing to give him a chance. That was all he could ask.

Why did he wanted them to trust anyways? 

"And you will trust the apostate?" Roderick asked incredulous. 

"The Breach is not the only threat we face” she said, he could see anger on her eyes, even if her voice was neutral.

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave" revealed Leliana. "Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others — or have allies who yet live” she stated, her eyes hard and glaring the Chancellor without mercy. 

“ _I_ am a suspect?” The man asked baffled.

“You, and many others.” 

“But not the creature.” 

“I heard the voices in the temple" Cassandra replied. "The Divine called to him for help.” 

“So its survival, that thing on its hand – all a coincidence?” 

“Providence" she said with certainty. "The Maker chose him, gave him a tool to help us in our darkest hour.” 

**“My lady, I’m sorry, but I'm definitely no chosen hero”** he said. After years serving Sauron, certainly Eru would not have chosen him for anything. He was not sure how he had become a Nazgûl, but surely it had involved willingly putting on his ring. He was no hero. Maybe he was sent to help, he wouldn't put past divine beings. Yet certainly it was not him being chosen as a hero. A _Nazgûl_ couldn't be a hero.

“The Maker does as He wills. It is not for us to say” she said simply. 

**"You truly have no idea of what I am."**

“Perhaps not" she admitted. "But no matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we need when we needed it.” 

“The Breach remains and your mark is our only hope of closing it.” Leliana reinforced. He might not buy the whole chosen thing, but that he could understand. He could be a tool to help them. He wouldn't mind that.

“You two can't be serious. We don't know how dangerous is this creature. It might be a demon, a poor possessed man. And you are letting it free.” 

"Solas says—" Cassandra once more tried to explain, but the man didn't even let her finish it.

"I _heard_ the unholy noise it made!" The Chancellor said, and the wraith could only imagined he had screeched at some point. That terrifying noise his kind made. "You have no authority to put us all at risk!" 

Yes, he had shrieked. He could remember now. While closing the Breach, or trying, he felt like his head was going to explode. A series of memories fell on his mind like a waterfall, slowly eroding his sanity. Images passing too quickly to understand. He couldn't remember exactly what he saw though, all he remembered was the feeling of being overwhelmed and... A voice. Celebrimbor's voice. He had eased his pain and told him something. Find me, he said. Find him? Why—

His thoughts were interrupted as Cassandra slammed a big, thick, leather book down on the table. “You know what this is, Chancellor?" Her voice was now impatient, she pointed at the book cover and her eyes held a determination that the wraith respected. "A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” She gets away from the table, walking towards Roderick until she backed him up against the wall. “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order with or without your approval” she said, poking him in the chest as she went on. 

"I hope you don't regret this, Seeker" said Roderick, not raising his voice for the first time. He scowled at the Ninth once more before opening the door and leaving. 

Once the door closed, the two women relaxed a bit. Cassandra seemed immerse in thought while Leliana sighed and said: “So it's done.” 

“We have no choice. We must act, now. With you at our side" Cassandra said, now looking at the Nazgûl. "You said that you can't remember what happened at the temple. You also told Varric you can't remember your name. Can you remember anything?” 

**“I... I think we should talk”** he responded. Cassandra expressions turned into concerned ones, but the other woman seemed mostly unaffected, he had their attention. So he told them everything he thought important. How he could not remember his past, how he was cursed with evil magic and that was not the world he knew. They listened attentively, never interrupting. It went far better than he had imagined it would. They were surprised, but not nearly as much as he expected. They also made no move to attack him while he told them about serving Sauron, even if he had not told them about it in detail, it was not a pretty story. Still, they only nodded. 

“So you _are_ cursed” Leliana said.

"How is this possible?" 

**"Which part?"** In truth, there was so much to the little he knew about himself that he couldn't know what had confused her. 

"Why help?" she ask instead of answering. "If you're not alive, you cannot fear death. If this is not your world, why care?" 

He thought about what to respond. He wanted to help. Even if he didn't fully understood why. It just seemed the right thing to do, right? How could he deny help when an entire world could be destroyed? Anyone you help. Or maybe not... There were people who aided Sauron willingly after all. _He_ had helped, even if he was dominated. Even if he wish at every step that he could die. That the Gondorian King could have killed him at Weathertop, or that the elf Lady at the Ford of Bruinen had succeeded at drowning him. And that was it, right? He felt awful. That was his chance of doing something good. **"I-I... I helped the wrong side before"** he simply stated. 

"Against your will, you said" Leliana recalled. 

**"It doesn't matter. I think I owe to do the right thing this time."**

The two women eyed each other. He felt as if they were having a full conversation in complete silence. What they were discussing he had no idea, but they eventually they looked at him again.

"We need your help, but we also need to know that we can trust you" Cassandra said. "Stories about you spread like wild-fire. We controlled the rumour about you at our favor, the fact you're willing to help and the circumstances of your arrival were helpful. Yet, you can understand our caution." 

"Talion" Leliana called a bit uncertain. That was how the Elf Lord had called him at the temple. "That was how the bright figure on that vision called you." He nodded at her statement. "May we call you that?"

**"I don't recognise that name, but I suppose is better than having you call me by my titles"** he agreed.

"We need you, but we hope you understand why we can't trust you."

**"I do."**

"Help us restore order." Cassandra held her hand to him, in an invitation to shake it, which he did. It was a promise, that he would do what he could to help. That was his chance on redemption. He would help this people. And he would find out what happened.

• • •

Celebrimbor felt _exaustated._ Reaching out to Talion had demanded so much of his powers. After years of being used by Sauron, he had seen better days. At least he got to watch the horror at the Maia's face when he felt the One Ring be destroyed. He savoured that moment, as Barad-dûr fell. He had tried talking to the Man then, the connection they had shared over the time they were alies was enough for him to use to contact him, though not without using a lot of power. But it was worth it. He had to find him. This world... That was not their world. His memories were fuzzy, at best. But he could remember a few things. Being dragged out of Arda into a world of green light, a dark figure, a woman and... Oh, Talion. Seeing him like that, marked by evil magic, not even responding to his name. It was his fault, he knew it.

He had to find him.

His last attempt at getting to him showed that he was in a house, a rustic one, with snow on the outside. He couldn't see much more though. He was still learning the rules of this place. How he could now walk through dreams and memories on this... Fade. That was how Eshne had called it. A helm beyond the physical one, a bit like the spectral world, but not quite. It was different, it made no sense. Emerald green mist filled the air and rocks floated freely. Everything felt like...a dream. What a nostalgic feeling. He couldn't dream since the Second Age, since Sauron had killed him.

It was also different in the sense he could't see anyone, no Men, orc or animal, not even the flesh he bounded to. Eshne. He had a name.

It was so strange to be bounded to him. He could feel it. Mortal flesh. Yet, this flesh wasn't that of Men, it was slightly different. Mortal, yes, but with ancient traces of magic, barely there. An elf, that was what he claimed to be. That was how their captors called him.

Stepping out of whatever world he was in, he found himself back inside a dome of blue light. Magic. But a different kind of magic. Not like the kind he was used to. It felt more... Common. Ordinary, but powerful. Eshne was there, sitting on the ground and poking the floor with a bored expression. Already used to being under that thing. Celebrimbor, on the other hand, couldn't bring himself to get used to being traped by strange magic.

"You're back" he said when he notice the wraith. His red hair was messy, despite not being before Celebrimbor went to the Fade, and his blue eyes lit at the sight of company. How long had him be out? "A day."

"Forgive me."

"It's alright" he ensured. His voice was light, like it always was. The strange elf always seemed optimistic, a quality Celebrimbor had come to enjoy. "Managed to talk to your friend?"

He had. At least he thought so. It was all blurry when he went to find him on the Fade. The thing was, would Talion care? He wasn't sure he remembered him and even if he did, well... It was pretty rich of him to ask for his help.

"I understand" said Eshne. It was a bit weird to have him on his head. They couldn't control much what they shared, but it was usually the louder thoughts that crossed over. It was infinitely less invasive than having Sauron, but the connection was more clear than it had been with Talion, or even Eltariel. He supposed that it had something to do with the magic on the younger's blood. The Fade seemed to clang to him and he could sometimes shape it into fire, lightning or ice, when he was feeling a little blue. It was impressive, how easily he could use magic, just to entertain himself a bit.

He was quite the character. And usually a great company, though he was easily bored. Not that Celebrimbor would blame him. They would spend all their time inside that dome, being watched by guards that were worry of them at best. Some really hated them. Knife-ear, they would call them. And Eshne's blood would boil. He would always keep a calm façade, though. Appear unimpressed. But it clearly was an insult to him. Perhaps he would later ask.

_Bite me, shem_. It was what he would usually reply to the more aggressive offenders. He wondered what it meant. Shem. Probably nothing pleasent, by the way he said it.

"Is the prisoner behaving?" A female voice was heard on the room. Calpernia was her name, if he was not mistaken. He turned to see the woman approach, her moviments always gracious and controlled. Eshne didn't bother looking at her, though.

"He is talking to the air, ma'am. It's... Unnerving" said the guard she was talking with.

"He's just talking to his new friend" she assured with a polite smile. "The Elder One will like to know the spirit has finally settled again. Warn the priests and leave us be."

"Yes, ma'am" he said, saluting her before going out.

Calpernia watched as he left, waiting for him to leave them alone before addressing the two elves. "I apologise for the guards, they're templars" she said, as if it explained everything. "I suppose the spirit can hear me already. The Elder One asks for your cooperation."

Eshne scoffed at her words. Fen'Harel ma halam, he heard the elf's thought loud and clear. He found funny how much the male cursed on his head, when he was always calm on the outside. The woman didn't shared his fondness with the redheaded's attitude.

"The Elder One is not without mercy, but he's not kind to those who get on his way" Calpernia said, her tone harsh, but still controlled. "Prove yourselves and life will be better." But Eshne didn't respond, and Celebrimbor couldn't, she couldn't even see him. The mortal elf was set on not helping this so-called Elder One. Honestly, he could understand why. That creature was dangerous. "The man... Talion?" she asked, gaining Celebrimbor's immediate attention. "He looks tainted. My Lord has a talent for _untainting_ people. I would rather not forcing his will on the two of you, but it's your decision."

_Don't_ , Eshne said on his mind. But Celebrimbor wasn't about to make the same mistake a third time. This time he was going to do things right. He owed Talion that much, at least. We gotta get out of here, the other elf thought. Soon.

_We need a plan,_ he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, one of the changes I made was that now we are going to get glimpses of what is happening with Celebrimbor and Lavellan. Hope you like it. 
> 
> Also, I wanted to point out how funny it is that Talion has no concept of religion, cause Eru is a real god that everyone knows exist. While in Thedas, well, nobody really knows.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. The Threat That Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talion and Celebrimbor both plan for the future.

The next two weeks went quickly as the Ninth— No. As _Talion_ didn't have much to do. Actually, he had a lot to do, yet it seemed so trivial when Cassandra and Leliana were building an entire organization while chaos consumed the world. Days were uneventful and he easily fell into a routine. He would talk to those that weren't too scared of him to do so, meaning, apart from the two leaders, Varric and the healer Adan, and he would walk outside the village's walls, either to explore or to help closing Rifts. There was still no sign of his missing belongings too. He had asked Cassandra and Leliana about it and warned them about not touching the ring or the blade. But that was it.

Varric was nice. He would tell him stories about his adventures with a friend of his or just stories he knew about this world and ask him to play a card game, which the Nazgûl would always politely decline. Adan was harsh, but he was a good man. Not much of a talker, but willing to answer Talion's questions about potions whenever he could. And he had a lot of questions. Like a child, the healer said once.

He couldn't answer his questions about magic though. That was apparent completely different from _potion magic_. Alchemy. That was how Adan had called it. Proper magic was something he would have to ask a mage about — not wizards. Like Solas. Yet, he still hadn't approached elf just yet to get to know him, so he did not bother him with his curiosity. All he had been able to understand, mostly from Varric's tales, was that mages were people born with the gift of doing magic and other people felt threatened by that. And it was a templar's job to ensure mages were behaving.

But they were at war... So...

Varric had only said "people are complicated" and moved on.

Sometimes, he would join soldiers to fight some demons and close Rifts. They wouldn't talk to him, or get too close, but they did the job. And it was good to be back into action without serving a malicious figure. Talion felt that he belonged there, on the field. Dodging fire and slashing demons with Urfael. Made things feel somewhat normal. Even if he had never done anything like that.

Despite being comfortable, he still refrained from using his powers too much. He would freeze demons and summon fire since he saw Solas do the same, but he would not use things like his ghostly bow or his more unnatural abilities. He didn't need anyone saying he was a demon or something like that. The first time he froze a fire demon it got people surprised, but no one questioned and as time passed, no one cared.

When he was not questioning people or out on battle, however, he would go on a walk. A nice and calm walk. The first time he had gone fetch some recipe to Adan on a cabin outside the walls, but nearby. At the end of the week, he had already walked all around the frozen lake that resided in front of the village's gate. There wasn't much to see. Some homes, trees and a lot of snow... But sometimes, he could see a few really weird things. Animals. Small things that resembled rabbits and pigs both* — and he couldn't decide if they were the cutest or just the most strange thing he had ever seen — and big ones that maybe looked like bulls if bulls looked like goats and were _twice_ the size.

Everything on this place, Thedas, he was informed, was so similar to things on Middle Earth and yet so _different_.

All had changed. No Gondor to conquer, no king to stop the return, no Sauron to obey, no ring seek, no Nazgûl but himself. There was a war going on, the world nearly ended, there was still a hole in the sky and a Nazgûl, he, was the only one who had the key to save everyone. What kind of being was this Andraste to trust him with such a task? What did she want? What was the plan? _Was there a plan?_ Varric had said she didn't talk to people, so how should he know what to do?

“Does it trouble you?” Cassandra asked him, as they crossed the Chantry's great hall together.

Talion realised he was looking at his hand. He often found himself lost on the emerald-green light that came from it. It was intriguing. And a symbol of everything that had changed. But it wasn't actually a problem. Sure, it had hurt on the beginning, but now it was just _there_. If anything, he was glad it existed. After all, what would these people do if it didn't? **“Well, it has stopped spreading, and it doesn’t hurt.”**

“We take our victories where we can,” she said playfully.

 **“I just wish I knew what it was,"** he admitted. **"Or how I got it.”**

“We will find out,” she assured. “What’s important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes that a second attempt might succeed — provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. That is not easy to come by.”

**“Clearly you have something in mind.”**

“We do,” she assured with confidence, as they followed down the hall.

Neither said anything more before entering the room that had been chosen to house the decision-making of the Inquisition. The same one where it had been reborn. It was really just a room with a table, a big map and some shelves. Usually, just Cassandra and Leliana were there, not that they called him there much, but when they walked in this time there were two new people. A man, one he had seen before, and a new woman.

“You’ve met Commander Cullen" Cassandra introduced him again. "He was named leader of the Inquisition’s forces.”

“It was only for a moment on the field." The man looked at him, studied him, but with no distrust on his eyes. His posture was relaxed, even if he was clad in full armour. And what a set of armour it was, smooth, shiny, with red cloth and dark fur covering it. It made Cullen seem important and noble. Talion wasn't sure why, but he didn't like noblemen very much. For a moment he heard a buzz, almost like a lost whisper, but he couldn't make sense of it. "I’m pleased you are well.”

“This is lady Josephine Montilyet, our new ambassador and chief diplomat” Cassandra continued.

“You’re… even taller than I heard” mumbled the woman, voice barely audible and eyes glued to the Nazgûl. And if Cullen looked noble, she looked _royal_. She wasn't wearing a dress but didn't seem to be a warrior. She was dressed in male pompous golden clothing. A large piece of jewellery adorned her shoulders, like an enormous necklace. “I’ve heard much" she tried to correct herself. "A pleasure to meet you at last.”

Talion only gave them both, Cullen and Josephine, a nod.

“And of course you know Sister Leliana.”

“My position here involves a degree of—”

“She is our spymaster.”

“Yes," Leliana agreed with a sigh. "Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

The corners of Cassandra's mouth rose almost imperceptibly before she focused back on why they were there. “I mentioned to Talion that his mark needs more power to close the Breach for good,” she said.

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help” Leliana completes rapidly, giving a small step forward.

“And I still disagree," said Cullen, shifting his weight a bit. "The Templars could serve just as well.”

“We need power, Commander" argued Cassandra. "Enough magic poured into that mark—”

“Might destroy us all" said Cullen, raising his voice a little, but not in an aggressive way. "Templars could suppress the breach, weaken it so—”

“Pure speculation,” said Leliana.

“ _I_ was a Templar. I know what they’re capable of” ensured the man on a lower tone, looking straight into Leliana's eyes.

“Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us" Josephine interrupted them, her voice clear and gaze set upon her colleagues, one at a time. "The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition and you, specifically,” she said looking to Talion. “Some are clamming you, for lack of a better term, a mage is Andraste's chosen. That frightens the Chantry” Josephine explained. “The remaining Clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics, for harbouring you.”

 **“That didn’t take long,”** he said. Of course, he wasn't naive enough to think people would just trust someone like him. Still, two weeks is a short window to decide on his character and spread the word.

“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt,” Cassandra said.

 **“Just how am _I_** **Andraste's chosen?"** he asked, looking at his both hands. **"Why are people so sure? She hasn't told that to anyone as far I understand.”**

The people on the room shared confused looks but said nothing about what had them confused in the first place. Talion always got that kind of look when he talked about Andrastre and it was starting to bug him. He should ask Varric about it later. 

“People saw what you did at the temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing," Cassandra said. "They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste."

“Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading—”

“Which we have not,” said Cassandra, interrupting Leliana.

“The point is, everyone is talking about you, and it's not speculation about you being a demon or not.” And Talion had to agree that it was a good thing. He was grateful that people acted somewhat normally around him. Uneasy, sure, but at least some of them would speak with him. Like Adan and Varric. And no one had run away in terror, which was always a victory. “People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you’re that sign.”

“And to others, a symbol of everything that’s gone wrong” reminded Josephine. She probably meant the so-called Chantry and the Chancellor. The man wasn't quite convinced of Talion's innocence, and frankly, neither was the Nazgûl himself, sometimes. It was just too much of a coincidence. He understood that. So, as frustrating as it was to have the Chantry getting on their way, he could sympathize. They would just have to prove them wrong. Or prove them right. Which was an option he really didn't want to think too much about. 

**“Can they harm us?”** Talion asked.

“With what? They have only words at their disposal” mocked Cullen.

“And yet, they may bury us with them” warned Josephine.

**“I can't say I blame them but aren’t they more concerned about the Breach? The real threat?”**

“They do know that it is a threat, they just don’t think we can stop it,” said Cullen. "And they are making sure everyone thinks the same."

“There is something you can do," said Leliana. "A Chantry Cleric by the name Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. I understand she is a reasonable sort. Perhaps she doesn’t agree with her sisters. She is not far and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”

Mother. This Chantry could be strange sometimes. He was sure it was just another title, but it was a curious one. Calling a priest mother. Then again, he had never seen temples before. He heard of temples built for Morgoth on Númenor, but most Men, Eldar and Dwarves did not build such things. He was in a strange world, things were different here. Having a temple, better yet, multiple and well-organized temples didn't make Andraste like Morgoth. He was pretty sure those people would never worship a Dark Lord. As weird as it was, perhaps Mother Giselle was just a good woman with a strange job and title.

**“Then I shall see what she has to say.”**

“She's currently on a village near Redcliffe, we have found transportation to take us there,” said Cassandra.

“Look for other opportunities to expand the Inquisition’s influence while you’re there,” said Cullen.

“We need agents to extend our reach beyond this valley, and you have the power to show them that we can solve things” reminded Josephine.

“In the meantime, let’s think of our options," said Cassandra. "I won’t leave this all to Talion.”

• • •

_There are too many guards_ , Eshne stated on his mind. The two elves had spent their time watching their environment, learning the guards' routines. Celebrimbor had even watched their dreams in the hopes of learning how to get out of wherever they were and how many people were within the pale-greyish stone walls. Too many, they've found out. The place was fairly big, it seemed. Not that the Fade provided much accuracy, it was only a recollection of people's memories about the place, but they had crossed references and somethings seemed to be a consensus. _I don't even have a staff, so my ability to use magic is fairly limited,_ the younger thought.

And now, after visiting countless dreams and misshaped memories, Celebrimbor understood. As flashy and impressive Eshne's magic was, it was nothing in comparison with what a mage with a staff could do. Weaponizing fire, lightning, ice and even their fëa was something very much common on this land.

But he was still Celebrimbor. He was still powerful, even if less than he would like to be right now. He could still fight. He just needed Eshne's permission to use his flesh and a sword. He could get them out of there, just like he and Talion had done back in Mordor, escaping forts and camps, freeing slaves. Eshne wasn't his Ranger, but he had battle scars to prove fighting wasn't something new to him.

 _We could steal a sword_ , suggested Celebrimbor.

Eshne thought something the other elf couldn't quite decipher, it wasn't something on that strange language he occasionally spoke, just too fast and blurred for him to make any sense of it. That was happening a lot lately. The younger elf's thoughts were more difficult to read and he had more control over what he shared. He wasn't sure it went both ways, though, or if the other was just ignoring his thoughts.

 _I do know how to use it, but I'm not **that** good_, he said on thought.

"I am," Celebrimbor said simply, voice steady and eyes not even blinking. "I could, if you allow me, control your movements."

 _Possess me?_ He could hear the younger's thoughts louder now, but not as clear as before. He had said something he shouldn't, clearly. He wasn't completely sure about what was a demon, but he _was_ sure that he was not one. That didn't seem to be enough to his companion, though. He flinched and looked away and Celebrimbor felt him actively trying to block him out of his mind. "I thought you were not a demon," he said to the Eldar, sounding humorous despite the dread the other could feel on his mind. _I don't want to die! I don't want to be an abomination!_

And suddenly Celebrimbor's mind was filled with thoughts that weren't his. Despite the best efforts of the other, he couldn't control the spill of thoughts that followed. He heard voices telling stories about mages being possessed by demons, saw an elven girl, with drawings on her face, just like Eshne, marked by darkness getting killed by what seemed to be her people, saw a boy scared that he could be next. Then everything vanished just as abruptly as it had entered his mind. The red-haired elf had his eyes closed and his brows knitted. "Forgive me," he said. "I-I..."

"It's fine" assured Celebrimbor, stepping back to give him space, as it was all he could think that would help the younger elf. The other opened his eyes but looked down. "I do not wish to be intrusive" he try starting the conversation with care, "but I saw." Eshne didn't say a word, nor did he looked up. But the Eldar felt his discomfort as well as he saw it. "That will not happen," he said, voice calm, but final. He did his best to try showing the other that whatever he thought it could happen, it wouldn't. He may be on a strange land, but he was still himself, his magic was still his magic, working on the same rules, or at least close enough, to those it had back on Arda. Save a few new features. "We are already bonded to one another. I would merely be guiding your body and you would need to consciously and constantly let me move you."

Eshne sighed but looked up. Eyes analysing the wraith before him, deep in thoughts that he could not hear. The elf was getting better at doing that every day. He had such control over his mind, such focus and willpower, the other couldn't help but think about the reason for that. That couldn't be just a natural characteristic. Perhaps it had something to do with demons and abominations. With possession.

"I suppose it's better than the alternative," said the young elf. _We still would need to get out of here. If I had my things I could break the barrier._

"What if I lend you my power?" offered the Eldar. 

"We can't know how it would mix with mine," he said, looking at his hands. _And we can't afford to fail. We need the element of surprise._

Yes. The surprise was pretty much all they had as levered. They didn't know if it would work and even if it did, they had no means of training the use of whatever their combined powers could accomplish. That was something to be done once they got out. But if they hadn't the power to get out... "Then we should get someone else to open it for us."

 _We can't wait for your friend_ , Eshne thought. And was in the right. Talion probably still couldn't remember him, just like he couldn't when Sauron had him. The Maia's foul magic still marked him, even if it shouldn't by now. Still, that magic was most likely what kept him alive, so he was grateful for it. He would solve that once he found the Ranger. Maybe he could unlock his memories, even if it meant unlocking the memory of his betrayal. He had to do things right this time. This was his third chance already, he doubted he would be granted a _fourth_.

They would need another way out.

"No" agreed Celebrimbor, looking down at the inscriptions outside the dome. They meant nothing to him. But he had seen someone inspect them every now and then. "We need to get Calpernia to free us."

 _That will require us to play by her rules_ , thought the elven mage, gaining a glance from the older elf. _Do want she and her master want us, you, to do._

"I know," he said with a sigh. After all the humiliation he had endured with Sauron, he would have to endure more. And this time he wouldn't even be able to fight back. He would have to swallow his pride. Bending the knee to this so-called Elder One made him feel sick, but he had to get out before the creature could learn how to use his power to whatever he intended to do. He had to prevent that. And he had to get to Talion. "It's far from ideal and it irritates me deeply, but I see no alternative."

Eshne nodded and they continued to talk about it, mostly in thought. Discussing how to do it and how they would coordinate, as well as what were the boundaries. They would need to see what Calpernia wanted before deciding how much could they afford to do for the enemy in order to get out, but somethings could be already ruled out. They didn't want to give them something they couldn't deal with later on and Celebrimbor would see his own destruction before forging yet another ring of power. Sauron or no Sauron, he had learned his lesson. Or at _least_ acquired a deep enough trauma.

No rings. No pouring his fëa on anything. 

"Hey, shem!" called Eshne, when they decided it was time.

One of the two guards sitting just out of the dome, turned to them, to the one of them he could see, before shouting "Shut up, elf!"

Eshne paid no mind to him and instead addressed the other guard, a woman who looked at him with worn-out eyes. "Calpernia," he said to her simply, but it gained the woman's attention. "Tell her we are willing to hear her terms."

The woman arched her brow, but kicked the other guard, arguing with eyes that he should go. The man groaned and made a lot of noise on his way out, but he went. And the woman continued to stare at Eshne as if waiting for him to try to escape, but they were playing the long game. For now, they would behave. As much as two very stubborn elves could, that is.

It took a while, but the man got back, Calpernia just behind him. She had a faint smile across her face that would be endearing if she hadn't them trapped for weeks by now. Her hands were hidden behind her back and her posture was impeccable, as was her dress and her braid, that circled her head like a crown. She kept her distance, as she would always do, and asked the guards to wait outside, which was also recurrent. Things seemed to be going well.

"So..." she begins. "Why the change of heart?"

"You know why..." Eshne said, his words stained with bitterness that should have been faked, but was all too real. "What can your Elder One offer?"

"What do you want?" she turned the question to the elf, that same smile still annoyingly present on her features.

Eshne thought for a moment, and Celebrimbor knew he was unsure if he should lie or not. He could even feel the stream of thought that rapidly ran on the younger's mind, though he could not hear it. "I... I want to help my people."

Calpernia only watched him. Celebrimbor saw in her eyes she wasn't buying it, but he could feel Eshne was mostly genuine, even if he felt like the mage was hiding something. "The Elder One said otherwise. He knows your hearts. He has seen them" she said not looking at the elf, circling the dome. "You are lying."

She stares at Eshne then, cold, looking down at him, and the elf bites his lower lip, his brows knitting and eyes refusing to break with hers. Celebrimbor was sure then that their plan was doomed, failing on the first step. He couldn't hear the other's thoughts clearly, but they were loud. Eshne was blocking him out, out of sheer willpower. Anger. It was anger that filled his mind and powered his will. Though anger wouldn't explain why he was hiding. Calpernia, who was analysing the mage as well, scoffed and turned her back on them. Her patience had probably worn thin. She had started moving when the redheaded darted a guilty look to Celebrimbor.

"Wait!" he yelled, making the woman stop on her tracks. She turned to them again, getting closer, her smile back to her lips. Eshne's hands closed into fists. " _Revenge_ " he stated between teeth. "I want revenge."

Celebrimbor was surprised. And maybe that was an understatement. He had seen the younger bored, annoyed and offended, but he always kept calm, on the outside, at least. There was no such care with hiding his emotions now. He was all sharp edges and pain, anger. The Eldar knew that feeling all too well. The burning rage that came with revenge, what blinded so he did not saw the errors of his ways, what made him forge that damn New Ring, which had poisoned his mind against his only true ally.

"Very well," she said, her words sounding very pleased, even with such a vague answer. Though, if the Elder One truly had seen their hearts, perhaps she knew already and only wanted to hear the truth. "And the spirit, I suppose he wishes to help the man, Talion."

"Yes," Eshne confirmed, looking at Celebrimbor, but avoiding his eyes. He glanced downwards instead.

"Then I shall tell you what is the price," she said. "The Elder One has seen your world, spirit. He wants you to forge him something."

"He won't do another ring." Eshne quickly cut her off, even before Celebrimbor could say anything.

Calpernia shifted her weight, crossing her arms and lifting her chin. "A ring?" she asked. "No. My Lord wants something worthy of a _god_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a new grammar checker, so I hope it makes a difference. Also, I wanted to say that from now on I will cut some stuff out. Otherwise, we will never get to end. I'll probably be doing two chapters between the major missions of the game.
> 
> I might do some short stories set before this, not related to Dragon Age. Mostly because I'm craving for Talion & Torin friendship fanfics. So if suddenly this becomes a series, you know why.


	6. Val Royeaux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talion reaches Val Royeaux. Not everyone is as nice as the people he met so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Sorry for taking this long to post. I was going to show Ferelden, do something nice. Have Talion meet Master Dennet. But I just hated the chapter. Felt unimportant, so, I decided to cut it, cut the whole thing on Hinterlands. I just really didn't like the "original" chapter. Nor the previous versions of this one. I hope I made it better. 
> 
> I also might have gotten a bit carried away? And I needed a pause at a point because I probably did some real projecting on this, on some parts. Which made me be more cruel to our protagonist. Sorry, Talion. 
> 
> Should I put a warning? Maybe? Better safe than sorry, right?
> 
> Warning: Description of a panic attack, self-loathing.

Going to the Hinterlands took a few weeks of travel with a not so nice merchant, but it was worth it. They had spent their time there trying to solve as many problems as they could, which were... A lot. They had saved the Crossroads, the village they were heading to, from mages and templars, had helped the refugees there, closed a few rifts and secured horses for the Inquisition. They had talked to Mother Giselle too, of course. After all, it's what they were there to do. Yet that was the smaller part of their trip.

The woman had been tending to the wounded, comforting and helping any way she could, and didn't have much time to talk. They commented shallowly about him being a "strange mage" and about faith, but she seemed more interested in what he could do to help than any other thing. 

"I honestly don’t know if you’ve been touched by fate or sent to help us… but I hope" she had said. "Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call, as they will listen to no other, even if they don't trust in you just yet."

And if Talion was honest about it, _that_ was the strangest part of all of this. He could cope with being in somewhere that was not Arda, or the strange magic, he had seen a lot in his non-lifetime. Nothing quite like this, but a lot. Now, being the hope of Men, that was _crazy._ He couldn't even imagine what sort of twisted thing was hidden in the shadows of Thedas if he was "almost normal". 

Almost. He still had to use his mask to cover his orange blazing eyes and the black veins on his skin, pale as a corpse. People at Haven saw him save them, so he had some points. Other people hadn't. At first, the lack of holes for eyes made his companions suspicious of his ability to see, but he quickly assured them it was fine. He could not see colours, but he saw more than he would see at daylight without the iron mask. 

It was enough for people to let him help, anyways, so they let it go. And that felt good. The helping. Putting his abilities to good use, including hunting skills he hadn't know he had. So he focused on that. After all that had happened back on Middle Earth, all he had done at Sauron's command, recovering lost cattle and protecting villages from possessed wolves was very rewarding. Made him hope he could be free of his influence, still all too present on his thoughts.

They didn't stay there forever, though. Two weeks and they left, back to Haven to better discuss what to do next. Mother Giselle had proposed to gather whomever she could within the Chantry's surviving clerics in a few months, enough time for them to get to Val Royeaux, where the meeting would take place. 

After some arguing about safety and how Talion should not speak at the meeting, even if he should be there, else they wouldn't meet with them, and a few letters to Mother Giselle, they finally hit the road. 

The journey had been even longer, but at least they were on horseback now. Still, it made Talion miss the fell beasts. Even though he found them quite repugnant. For all their uncanny looks and terrifying nature, they were fast. Faster than any horse could ever be. Sometimes, back when he rode them, he felt the wind hit his skin as if it was a massive waterfall and not just still air. He was pretty sure it would hurt a normal person.

He had no way of getting one of those here, anyway. Closest thing around were _dragons._ And that was just... No.

So for the next two months, they crossed the land, avoiding the battlefields of the civil war that consumed the country, Orlais. Most villages had the scars to prove they had seen the war up close, some were nothing but ruins. Houses of smooth and coloured walls, so foreign to Talion, burned and destroyed into pieces. The Nazgûl had insisted on helping where they could, with both the demons and ill-intended soldiers, which had delayed the trip a bit. He couldn't just watch. For the first time since he could remember he actually could choose to help. How could he not? 

Still, they've managed to get to the city a day before the meeting. Enough time for them to rest, for his companions to sleep. Though Cassandra had insisted that they should camp outside, instead of getting rooms in some inn. Val Royeaux wasn't apparently safe, not even behind closed doors. It was risky enough to set foot there, to sleep there was madness. 

By the morning, just after the sun rose, they finally approached the city. 

Val Royeaux was unlike anything Talion had ever seen. Not quite so grand as Minas Tirith, or Minas Morgul, but imposing on its own way. Young, fragile, but powerful. 

It was made with a single purpose in mind, showing off. The front gate resembled more the front door of a palace than something that was supposed to protect the city. Even the gates looked delicate. The strangely smooth pale blue walls, light floor and ornaments made with living plants and gold, alongside the decorated windows and marble columns that held winged creatures made with gold, it all came together to compose an impressive figure, of power and fortune. There was also a bridge linking the gate and the city, the same columns with golden animals, beautiful plants and light grey stone, almost white. Even the floor was lavish, with circles of bright white and black marble. That had to be cleaned with frequency to look like that. The amount of coin needed to do such a thing... 

He decided he didn't like Val Royeaux very much. 

Not after seeing the chaos left behind by the civil war that consumed the nearby villages.

As they crossed the bridge, after a long time discussing bureaucracy at the gates and some weird look from the guards to Solas, bells rang, but with no urgency. It wasn't a warning about trouble somewhere within the walls or anything like that, it appeared just to be... A sad background noise.

"The city still mourns" Cassandra explained.

Grief then, that was what it meant to say. Of course, this was where the Chantry stood. They had lost their leaders at the explosion that created the Breach, they had lost their Divine, Justinia, he was sure that was her name. He could never quite grasp how much she meant to these people. This, however, showed him that she was more important than he ever imagined. Her death had happened months ago. This couldn't be for appearance's sake. Her death had really been a heavy blow. 

Talion was suddenly taken from his thoughts by a gasp. He couldn't see much with the mask covering his eyes, only her glowing shapes. A lady. Ridiculous big hat, pompous dress and a mask covering her face. She almost fell as she quickly tried to get away from the group, eyes glued to the Nazgûl. A few more figures that were heading their way saw her reaction. They studied her before seeing who she was looking at and fleeing too, back into the city. Talion sighed. He couldn't blame them. Not really. Still, after the way most people had treated him in Haven, he was a bit spoiled. _Time to face reality,_ he thought.

"Just a guess, Seeker, but I think they don't like Talion very much," said Varric, not very amused despite the humour in his words. 

"Your skills of observation never fail to impress me, Varric."

Talion couldn't help but chuckle at the banter between the woman and the dwarf. They acted a lot like old grumpy friends for two people who supposedly didn't like each other. Perhaps there was something about it he didn't know that prevented them from being friends. Probably. He didn't know much about either of them. Or they just needed some time to bond. 

"Lady Cassandra" called one of Leliana's agents. She was wearing the same style of armour and clothing than the rest of them always did, so it wasn't hard to spot. The agent came from the city in a hurry, but not the kind that told Talion to prepare for battle. Just the kind that said things wouldn't go exactly as they planned.

"What have you found?" Cassandra asked her.

"The Chantry Mothers await you, but..." she said, hesitant and careful. "So do a great many templars." 

"There are templars here?" Cassandra asked, eyes wide all the sudden. The templars _weren't_ supposed to be there. He knew they had rebelled against the Chantry, it was pretty much all he knew about them. That had to mean something. It did. Something had changed, for them to be there, on the day the Inquisition was to talk to the clerics. It was too odd to be only a coincidence.

The agent nods. "People seem to think the templars will protect them from... From the Inquisition" she says, choosing her words with care. Maybe it was just Talion, but she didn't seem so sure about their cause, probably had heard all sorts of things and was still questioning the veracity of the accusations herself. "They are gathering on the other side of the market. I think that's where the templars intend to meet you."

Cassandra dismissed the scout, with an order to report the new development to Haven, just in case they were... Delayed. As soon as the woman disappeared, the seeker rambled about the absurdity that was that the Inquisition, _not the Breach_ , was the danger to be feared. As if negating the danger would make it pass. 

**"We knew they would have a negative reaction,"** Talion said, only half paying attention. 

"You think the Order's returned to the fold, maybe? To deal with us upstarts?" Varric suggests. 

"I know Lord Seeker Lucius," said Casandra, stopping at the final gates that led into the city. She didn't look at them, her eyes focused on the ground, despite the way she seemed not to be looking at it. "I can't imagine him coming to the Chantry's defence, not after all that's occurred."

So it wasn't just him that found this weird. Shady. He kept his hand close to the hilt of Urfael, just in case.

"There is only one way of knowing for sure," said Solas, looking at Talion's hand briefly. His features did not reveal what he thought though, and his eyes quickly went back to Cassandra. "We should be prepared."

Cassandra nodded. "Just remember what we talked about. The clerics want a reason to tear us down, don't give them one" she said, watching Talion as she made her way inside. 

He knew what she meant. His voice was a liability. Better to keep to himself.

"Is that the mage that killed the Divine?" They hear a random, by the clothes, nobleman speaking as they finally entered the city.

"Let him pass," said a noblewoman with him. "The Inquisition is the templars' problem. And they _will_ fix it." 

The group kept going, ignoring the citizens, none very happy about their presence. It wasn't worth to do anything else. In fact, it would only make things more difficult.

As the agent said, there was a commotion on the other side of the market. They circled the huge statue in the centre of the square, joining the crowd in front of a small platform stage built on the top of the stairs that led to yet another gate. A few women were on top of it, the only ones unmasked so far. 

"Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!" called one of them, with an accent unlike those Talion was familiar with. "Together we mourn our Divine. Her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery!" she said with an unnecessary amount of flair. "You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more..." Now, with a most serious tone, she gazed at Talion, eyes fierce and deadly. This was not good. Not good at all. They are supposed to get a few clerics to doubt, but that would be hard to do if they thought he had killed their beloved Divine. Which he couldn't even rule out, honestly. "Behold the so-called hero! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say, this is heresy! Andraste would never choose a _magister_ to help us in our hour of need!" 

Now, that was new. Magister. What was that? Another word for mage? A slur? Just a common curse? Maybe it was something else entirely. Should he be offended? By the way, she said it, probably. He couldn't find it in him to be though. 

Talion saw Cassandra tense, looking around as people step aside, making a semi-circle around them. That was not what they had agreed with. They were supposed to have an audience with the clerics, something less aggressive, or at least less public. This was a spectacle. A display of power. Talion remembered the orcs, the captains who would use their rivals to assert power, with duels they knew they could win, but the enemy didn't. Talion felt like one of those orcs on the arena, who didn't know better. Surrounded by a very demanding audience, who wanted nothing but blood. 

Those people could look nice, in their noble clothes and their fancy city, but he knew they were just as bad as the uruks who once had been under his command. 

"The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it is too late!" Cassandra tried, her voice strained and hands closed into fists. "The Breach in the sky is our true enemy. We must unite to stop it."

It was an easy argument. The truth. Right? How could they deny _that_? The world had nearly ended! They were part of Thedas, this was about saving them as well. And yet, it didn't seem to stick. The people whispered about heresy and political nonsense, completely unaffected by the Seeker's words. She had been the Divine's Right Hand, he remembered her saying so. If they couldn't trust even on her, what could they do? How would they get help to seal the Breach? 

"It is already too late!" The Mother said, dismissive, emphatic, but not screaming. "This _mage_ can't save us!"

Ah, that was it, then? The mage can't save them. He chuckled despite himself. _If only she knew._ They would either run or kill him right there, he was almost curious about what would they do. A dark part of his mind wanted to know, wanted for him to correct the Mother. Perhaps then she would be afraid, she would do something other than speak of safety while demons and war destroyed everything outside the city walls. Or maybe she would point at one of the guards and tell people he could do nothing about the Nazgûl and prevent him from even try.

"I heard he made the Breach," someone said within the crowd, getting Talion's attention. Talion couldn't stop thinking if the enemy had the same trouble to convince everyone of their journey to destroy the One Ring.

He immediately cursed himself for thinking about the little elves as _the enemy_ still. Old habits die hard, and he hated that. To remain looking like one of Sauron's servants was bad enough, to keep thinking like one? 

"He's a magister, that's what he is, look at him." Something inside of him said that if maybe he wasn't a Nazgûl, then these people would trust him. It was him. His fault the Inquisition couldn't get support. Still, his rational mind acknowledged that they didn't _know_ that. They thought he was a mage, a human, a magister, whatever that might be. That he looked weird was only an excuse to do nothing. If another person was in his place, he was pretty sure they would just come up with another reason why they shouldn't trust him.

"...Can't trust the Imperium."

He had no idea what was that, but maybe they truly shouldn't trust him. A Nazgûl, of all people. Was he even that? A person? Or just Sauron's plaything? A broken puppet without a master. They didn't know. Didn't meant they weren't right, yes? An educated guess, it could be. Or maybe they could just it feel in their bones.

"He stopped the Breach from growing!" he heard Cassandra arguing again, trying to say it louder than the combined sound of the murmurs. The whole square sharing gossip and their own opinions, covering her voice as they went.

They were close enough to the stage that the clerics could hear her. The Mother actually paused for a moment, looking at the Nazgûl carefully, but she answered. "Yet the threat remains, and nothing can't be done about it." Her tone was cold and final as if she was delivering a death sentence. In a way, she was. If they couldn't act, the world was doomed. Demons would keep coming, killing. He was, as far as they knew, the only one capable of doing something about it. 

It was so _frustrating_ to be able to help for the first time in his _miserable_ existence, just to have a priest in their way, trying to crush any chance they had. He felt his hand shaking on its accord, aching to do something, maybe.

"There is no hope, Seeker!"

_What could he do?_

"He killed the Divine."

He wanted to say something. 

"...If this Breach isn't growing anymore, why do we need him?"

He needed to say something. 

"Must we just watch as the world _ends?_ "

Yet, there was a reason to why it was Cassandra talking. He was so cursed that even he's voice was evil. He had spent so long in the darkness that it had marked every little bit of him. He was no hero. He could never be.

"...What if this is his plan?"

He shouldn't, couldn't speak. His mouth suddenly felt dry, his throat tight. No word could escape.

"He makes me feel weird."

All he could do was watch. Watch as the Mother filled people with dread for them and dismissed the real problem. As people around them accused him of every bad thing they could think of.

"He should be on trial!"

He felt as if it wasn't even him there, surrounded by the mob. He was just a spectator. Unable to do anything. He could barely hear anything. Just angry noises on the background and a few muffled words. He was as powerless about this as he was about any order given by Sauron or the Witch-king. Even without them, he _couldn't_. 

He couldn't die. 

He couldn't help.

But he _could_. Nothing was holding him back, not really. There was no sorcery controlling him anymore. _So why can't I do something?_

It was all too much.

Too many voices, too loud, too aggressive. Melting together. He felt as if they were choking him, even if he knew voices alone couldn't do that. He didn't even need to breathe, this shouldn't be a problem regardless. But it was. He couldn't breathe. _Why can't I breathe?_

This was pathetic. He was pathetic. Thankfully no one seemed to notice as his mind went spiralling. Everyone too busy watching Cassandra and the cleric fight with words. Maybe he should get out before anyone saw what a mess he was.

Yes. 

He wanted to get out, needed to get out. Go back to Haven, to the Hinterlands, even Mordor was better. But he couldn't just run away like a nervous bride. _Pathetic._

_What would the Witch-king think?_

He just needed to get out!

Maybe test once and for all if he could die. Though the thought of hoping about it just to wake up again was terrifying. 

He only wanted peace, or at least nothing. 

This was a mistake. This whole charade was a mistake. He couldn't be a fucking hero. But he should try, he knew he couldn't just ignore these people. He wanted though. So badly. Just run away and hide until the world ends. Hopefully, he would end too.

_Celebrimbor._ The name popped on his mind. 

Something about the memory of the elf he barely knew made it all worst. There was a pain in his chest, a pressure. Every time the name just appeared on his mind, he felt it. It was not what he needed now. He just needed... He wasn't even sure what. Peace? Death? A fucking answer?

He needed to calm down. This wasn't helping. His mind was racing, his body was hurting. _Snap out of it._

If only was that easy. 

He felt a hand reach his arm. He immediately shook it off, not even seeing who it was. _This isn't the time to make a scene._

"...You OK?"

No. No, he wasn't. He knew that. Which only made it all the more infuriating. He wasn't being rational.

That was when he felt. A wave of magic spreading through his body. Nothing threatening. Nothing invasive. Just a warm blue light that wasn't there. Magic. A familiar kind of it, but nothing foul or poisonous. Just, warm. 

It felt like an embrace. As if someone or something was trying to soothe him. Take away his worries. He could almost hear, but not quite, whispered kind words and comforts being muttered. As if they were a ghost and he was just a man who didn't understand such things. His heart seemed to be understanding just fine, however. He calmed down a bit. Whatever the light was, it drowned out all the voices around him. Banished the invisible hand on his throat. Held his shaking hand until it calmed. 

_By Eru_ , it was working. All he could feel was warmth, and he could hear de sound of metal being worked on. A blacksmith? He cared not. He didn't have any strength to care. He felt tired. Mentally, physically. Even if he hadn't even moved at all. Even if he had, it would make no difference. Wasn't important either. All it mattered was that he could think now. 

How that had happened to him? What was even that? 

He still could hear the crowd. But it wasn't overwhelming now. They didn't all sounded like one any longer, he just couldn't hear it well. As if he was underwater, hearing the sounds of the river in that strange muffled way.

He could listen to the low voice better. Yet, he could not make sense of it. It was pleasant, gentle, almost like it was worried about someone important to it. 

_Celebrimbor._ Not it. Him. Why him? What did the elf lord want? If he could just understand what he said... There was something, something important. He just couldn't comprehend. 

The was a part he could, though. A part of whatever the elf said told him to fight. He had to take action. They would deal with the consequences later. Right now, he _would_ do something. Help, it was what he would do. He was no hero, but whatever placed the Mark upon his hand, be it intentional or not, made his responsibility to help. It was now up to him. And he would not let these people down. 

**"With all due respect, ma'am,"** he said, silencing the crowd with a voice that sounded like it was followed by a dozen whispers. All eyes were on him now. Cassandra looking both surprised and annoyed. **"You speak of stopping the Inquisition because it offends you. You are ready to dismiss hope, because of your pride."** He wasn't sure if they were quiet for fear or because they were _actually_ listening, but he kept going. **"I don't know much about your Divine, but for what I heard, I doubt she would want your people to fall like that. Something must be done. You can't just ignore this as you do the villages outside! If you want to hang me after this, you are welcome to do it, but let us _help_."**

There was a long silence, only murmurs here and there, but he paid no attention to them. He didn't want to lose himself to them again. 

Before anyone at the stage could articulate a reply, armoured steps were heard. A bunch of soldiers walked in on the market, gaining the attention of everyone. It was as if they had broken a spell and suddenly everyone was speaking. This time though, Talion blocked them out as best as he could, instead of trying to listen to everyone. 

He almost missed when the Mother talked again. "...And should we pay the price should you fail? Should we trust you when the mere sound of your words carries evil in them? No! The templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this 'Inquisition' and its pet _demon_ and the people will be safe once mo—Ah!" She didn't finish her speech. One of the soldiers hit her on the head, knocking the Mother to the ground. 

The crowd gasp in shock. Most people silent and others demanding answers. The market was chaos. One of the soldiers actually tried to help the Mother, but an older figure soon stopped him. Fancy armour and confident posture. The leader, no doubt about it. There was something off about him. He had the shape of a man but felt _different_. Wrong. _Twisted_. His body wasn't actually _real_. Like... Like a demon. He didn't look like one, though. Just felt. How could that be?

"Still yourself. She is beneath us" he said. 

"Lord Seeker Lucius, it's imperative that we speak with—" Cassandra tried to say, but she is quickly cut off by the man. Demon? He wasn't sure yet. 

"You will _not_ address me."

"Lord Seeker?" she questioned, her voice reaching a higher pitch.

"Creating a blasphemous movement? Raising a cursed puppet as Andraste's chosen? You should be ashamed," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, finally looking at her before switching to the crowd. "You should all be ashamed! The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages!" 

His words carried anger, they sounded angry, but Talion could see, even with his limited vision, his face. There wasn't much distance between them. He could distinguish a faint closed-lip smile and the wide eyes that never fixed on any point of the audience. That man, if he was even that, did not want to help. Talion had stayed clear from the whole debate over which faction could help them better, mages or templars, but if Lucius was the leader of the templars, them he would have to agree with Leliana. Maybe it was better to give mages a chance.

"Lord Seeker—" Talion reached for Cassandra's arm, stopping her from further arguing with the... Thing. Her gaze snapped to him, brows furrowing, but she did not move his hand from her arm. She only glanced at it and him. He let her go. 

**"Cassandra, he's not going to help,"** he said, low enough that only her would hear it with all the noise the citizens were still doing. 

" _I_ will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the Void" The Lord, Lucius, continued from the stage. The audience had mixed feelings, they weren't sure if they should applause or just have the guards get him out of there. " _We_ deserve recognition. The Chantry has done nothing! Your 'Inquisition' has done nothing!"

"But Lord Seeker..." The same soldier who tried to help the Mother intervened. "What if he can really help? What if—" 

"Do not question" ordered a second soldier, pulling him from the stage. The man complied without much trouble, but he went looking to the ground, mouth twisted as if he was chewing the inside of his cheek.

Lucius gave him no attention, too caught up on his little show to stop for something like that. "The Templar Order is under my rule now. I decide what to do and we will not waste time with this Inquisition and its abomination." The people of Val Royeaux still watched baffled as he grinned after everything he said. Chin up, straight back. No shame. If he didn't felt like a demon, Talion could pass that off as him getting back at that ridiculous city and its nobles, which he might approve, but that was something he couldn't just overlook. "Templars!" he called. "Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!"

At his command, his small army moved out, well organized and disciplined. Before the crowd went wild though, the city guards ordered everyone to disperse. Get back to their own business. But he saw some groups leave together arguing the chaos that had just happened. The stood there, Cassandra and Solas watching the templars go. 

"Charming fellow, isn't he?" Varric broke the ice.

"Has the Lord Seeker gone mad?" Cassandra asked, wide eyes still looking at the way the templars left.

**"You know him well?"**

"Yes, he's—" she paused, looking at the Nazgûl with narrow eyes. "Why?" 

"You've seen something?" Solas, who he noticed was looking at him, asked.

**"Felt"** he corrected. **"But let's not discuss it here."** If Val Royeaux was truly as they had said, never safe, always listening, that was a conversation better held outside the city walls. There was enough chaos for one day there, they didn't need wild speculation from "the magister" on top of it. It wouldn't look good for the Inquisition.

"We still have to discuss you defying my order not to speak with them."

"Seeker..." Varric tried to protest on his behalf, but she only gestured with her hand. _Not here._

Without much discussion, they followed the same path they had seen the templars make, out of the city. When they reached the first gates, the ones that gave access to the bridge they needed to cross, they saw a man wave at them a few meters away. 

"You there!" he called.

"I think that man is trying to get our attention," Cassandra said, immediately followed by a scoff from Varric.

"What you said about 'skills of observation', again, Seeker?" asked the dwarf nonchalantly.

The Seeker glared but broke eye contact with a disgusted noise. The dwarf laughed wholeheartedly, before gasping as an arrow lodged itself on the stone between him and Talion with a sharp sound. He almost stumbled back as he processed what had just happened. "What was _that?!_ " 

**"Well, either whoever shot it has a very poor aim or that man isn't the only one trying to get our attention"** Talion answered, nearing the arrow without much care. There was a piece of paper tied to it with a red ribbon. He got it from the arrow and unrolled the small paper. He pulled his hood up, to cover the line of his eyes and took off his mask enough to take a better look, but carefully not to let anyone see more than they should. The paper had a message written in flowing careless hand, with lots of doodles on the borders. 

It was weird to read things on Thedas, but he could. Even if he didn't recognise the shapes of the letters it somehow just made sense on his mind. One of the many questions he still had about everything that was happening. 

> People say you're special. Heard what you said. I want to help! There's a baddie in Val Royeaux that wants to hurt you.
> 
> Bring swords!
> 
> Red Jenny

The text ended with an address and a date. And also a poorly drawn man with an arrow through the neck. He would think a child had written it if it wasn't for the subject. Or maybe a child had written it, which was concerning. The Nazgûl put on the mask again and gave the message to Cassandra, as he should, and she passed it to Solas and Varric. 

"Well, that's not vague at all" the dwarf was the first to say.

**"Could be a trap."**

"One more reason not to ignore it" Solas argued. And he was right. Best case scenario they would win an ally, worst case, they would take an enemy down. It wasn't safe, but ignoring it wouldn't do any good either. 

"I have an invitation for you," said the messenger, who had probably run out of patience waiting for them. Cassandra went to get the letter, but the man holds it back. "The madame ordered me to give the invitation to the mage with black armour."

Talion looked to Cassandra, but she only gave him a quick nod. He got the letter from the man, who excused himself to go back to his own business and unrolled it. Once more, he took off the mask to read. The text was beautifully written. A stark opposite of the previous one. The paper was better. The ink wasn't bleeding everywhere. It was formal and extravagant. It even smelled great, like fresh flowers. 

> You are cordially invited to attend my salon held at the chateau of Duke Bastien of Ghislain.
> 
> Yours,
> 
> Vivienne de Fer
> 
> First Enchanter of Montsimmard
> 
> Enchanter to the Imperial Court 

As it was the case with the other one, this also had an address and a date, though it was not as near as the previous letter. He covered his face again and passed that letter too.

"A First Enchanter?" asked Cassandra. He wasn't sure what it meant. Maybe a different type of mage? But the word imperial told him it was important.

"Seems you're getting popular" Varric said. "Maybe having Talion talking wasn't that bad, Seeker?"

She didn't reply.

The group followed her out of the city, where they could discuss it better, but before crossing the bridge, they were once more stopped. This time by an elven woman. Mortal, like the other, but with bits of magic clinging to her. A mage. She was hidden behind a pillar and when she came to them, she kept looking around. Hiding. From the guards, maybe?

"If I might have a moment of your time?" she asked.

"Grand Enchanter Fiona?" Cassandra took a step forward as if trying to see if she was really there.

"Leader of the mage rebellion" Solas realized. So that was why she was hiding. "Is it not dangerous for you to be here?" 

She shook her head. "I heard of this gathering, and I wanted to see the man that claims to be able to help us with my own eyes," she said, getting closer to Talion. He couldn't see her eyes move, but he could almost feel her gaze. Analysing. "If it's help with the Breach you seek, perhaps you should look among you're fellow mages. Though I see no staff, my people saw you freeze demons at the Hinterlands." 

"You're willing to help?" Cassandra asked with eyes narrowed.

"I'm willing to _listen_ to your plan," she clarified, "which is more than Lucius will ever give you." The way she said his name made it clear they knew each other, and she had no pleasant words about him, so perhaps the thing he saw didn't act uncharacteristically for the man it was impersonating. Or maybe she just didn't like him very much. "But this is no place to discuss this, and I should go back before anyone finds me. Come meet me at Redcliff. Should your terms be reasonable, my people would be glad to help." 

She didn't stay longer, rapidly vanishing amidst the plants that adorned the bridge. So they kept moving. Back to the spot where they had slept. It was near enough that they could see the city, but not so near that there was anyone around. There were some trees, but it wasn't a proper forest. It provided some shades though, which was great. 

He thought about the elf suddenly. Celebrimbor. It wasn't the first time the name had just appeared on his mind, completely out of nowhere.

He was trying to say something before. He should investigate that. Maybe he could help Talion to understand all of this. 

He _knew_ him.

He had to find him. Somehow.

Varric, as usual, decided he was going to start the talking. "So... What did you see? Felt." 

Talion paused for a moment, trying to find a better way to present his suspicions. Not suspicions. He was pretty sure of it. **"The Lord Seeker... He felt... Distorted. Like a demon."**

Cassandra crossed her arms. "A demon? That's not possible, seekers can't be possessed..." 

**"No"** Talion stop a bit. How could he explain he had a sort of sense that made him just know these things. He couldn't even explain how he could see with his mask on. **"He— He's not _real._ His body is not real, it's just... Magic. He _is_ a demon." **

"That's not—" 

"It is very much possible, though not a very good idea." Solas looked deep in thought, didn't seem to even realise he had cut the Seeker off. "Demons aren't corporeal, not truly, but they can manifest as such."

Varric scratched his chin. "If the Lord Seeker is a demon we can't just let him be." 

"But attacking him would only make things more complicated," said Solas. "We don't know if the templars are with him or not." 

"Surely the Order wouldn't follow a demon!" Cassandra said, her gesticulating as she talked. "Even if they would, there has to have someone that wouldn't..." 

Varric looked back to the city. "That man..." And the Nazgûl was sure everyone knew who he was talking about. "The one who questioned Lucius, well, the demon. He seemed reasonable enough. Maybe we could talk to him?"

"How? He is with the templars" Cassandra asked.

**"I can be discrete."**

Varric scoffed, in a friendly way. "You're a mage, you use a sword and you're sneaky too? Anything you can't do?" 

_Die._

In truth, there was a lot of things Talion couldn't do, but that was the one that got him frustrated the most. He wasn't about to say it out loud anyways. He hadn't told anyone just yet.

Cassandra placed her hand on her chin, looking at him. "You think you can get to that man without anyone seeing?" 

**"I can,** " he said, no doubt on his voice. Maybe he had sounded a bit arrogant... But it was the truth. He was known to be the stealthiest of the Nazgûl. The Witch-king once said he used to sneak around the fortresses when he was mortal, just for fun. He wasn't sure why his past self did such a risky thing for fun though. Sounded stupid. **"I know you don't want me with no supervision, but, honestly, you would only get on my way."**

"I'll go." Varric sighed. 

Talion could agree to that. He had seen the dwarf in action. He knew how to stay hidden, even in the middle of battle. Even if he would prefer to go alone, Varric would not be a dead weight, so it wasn't that bad.

"Who said I trust you?" asked the Seeker, one arched brow and arms crossed.

Varric laughed at that and started gathering his things. "Relax, Seeker, we'll babysit each other." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to adapt what we see on the games as best as I can, but that lore is a mess. 
> 
> Anyways... Thanks for reading!


	7. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talion is still conflicted, meanwhile, Celebrimbor and Eshne are learning to work together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I kinda vanished, right? I was really not in the mood to post, but I'm back. Sort of. I'm not abandoning this fic anytime soon, but my university finally decided to have classes online. Better said, my specific department has accepted to do the same as everybody else is already doing since last year. Thing is, I don't know how things are going to go and I might not post as frequently as I did at the beginning. 
> 
> I just wanted to take this chance to thank everyone that is reading this as well. Honestly, I wasn't expecting half the number of readers this fanfic currently has. Thank you!

They hit the hammer on the glowing red metal bar with more force than anticipated. A blue light involved the right side of Eshne's body, painting the shadows in the poorly lit forge with its colour, a strong contrast with the orange glow of the fire. Both elves had been working late into the night for the past weeks, as neither of them needed sleep. They had to refine their ability to work together. Surely they were better, but it wasn't enough. They hadn't a deadline, but that was what worried the oldest. Their chance could present itself at any moment. Yet the young elf kept fighting him off, resisting. It was frustrating. Especially when he thought of Talion. How well they worked together. Though this was completely different from what he had with the Ranger.

He still wasn't sure what he had had with him.

Celebrimbor released Eshne, stepping aside, a sigh escaping his ghostly mouth and eyes closing for a brief moment. "You can't fight me if we are to make this work." 

"Oh, _I'm sorry_ , Celebrimbor," said the youngest, tossing the hammer on the anvil. His voice had a bite to it, despite the politeness always present. "Giving control over my body to another isn't exactly _easy_."

Silence filled the air uncomfortably. The boy was right, of course. This wasn't easy. For neither of them. And he wasn't as quick to trust as Talion had been. Well, and look at what that trust bought him at the end... He shouldn't be angry with the other elf. It wasn't his fault. However, all he did was watch as his companion paced. Their new accommodations on the dungeons providing more space for it, now that they had half a room and not just a little dome. He should say something, probably. Years alone and then trapped at Barad-dûr didn't help to improve his social skills though.

"Yet is what you must do," he said without thinking too much about it.

Eshne snorted, both head and shoulders falling slightly. The elf almost missed his mumble, barely audible. "I don't need you to remember me that."

That wouldn't work. But what would? He was usually rational, perhaps appealing to logic was the way to go? He wasn't sure. He could inspire troops and strike fear in the enemy. Yet putting to rest the worries of a young mortal elf was not something he had any experience with. He also knew near to nothing about him. He had no idea what to use to appeal to the elf. "Shaping metal is a work that needs skill, my skill" he tried again. 

"I know that." The younger elf didn't even look at him. He went straight to the opposite corner of their space, where books about magic and lyrium were piled like a wall on top of a small wood table.

"And you know that if we hope to escape, we need my skill."

"I _know_ ," he said from behind the books, voice muffled as his head was buried on something, probably on his crossed arm on the table. _I want to get out of here just as much as you._

Of course, he did. Celebrimbor was trying to escape not only for his sake, but because he had to find Talion, but Eshne probably had someone he had to come back as well. Someone who he wished to see again. He had a family out there, his clan, he mentioned once. Maybe not a wife and children, he seemed too young for that, but people were waiting for him somewhere. If they were his parents or siblings or a found family, he had no idea. Was he young enough to still be living with his parents? He wasn't sure how young, or how many years he had lived, but he looked as if he had just entered adulthood. Older than Dirhael had been when he died, from what re could recall from Talion's memories, but barely. 

Yet another child sacrificed so a Dark Lord could use his power. At least this one survived. He wasn't sure about the specifics, his memories about the temple weren't clear, about how he had gotten attached to the young elf, but he knew there was an explosion. They had died together already. And that's why they were trapped. Captured as Celebrimbor's magic recovered his body. He remembered that much.

If he had just been _faster._

It wasn't time to dwell on the possibilities. The past was gone, he needed to think about the future. Find Talion and get the young elf back to his family. And that depended on them working together. They had to move as one. Eshne would have to let him control his flesh. Otherwise, they had no hope. He needed to think about a solution. 

Celebrimbor observed the elf. Getting closer to the table to see him better. His head was now resting on his hands, face hidden by the fingers and shoulders hunched up. Tense. Was he nervous about it? Afraid? Maybe he had pressured him too much. Having him on the edge wouldn't help, so he should start being more careful. "You must relax."

He did not look at him, hands still on his face. "I'm trying!"

The guards outside the barrier wall that divided the room in two, their side and that of their captors, looked at the elf they could see with frowned brows and twisted mouths. He was sure they would tell the elf to be quiet, as they always did, but they just went back to their card game. This time, they wouldn't add to the problem, it appeared. 

He still had no idea of how to help the mage. _What can I do?_ What could he say to make the elf trust him enough?

"I don't know. I'm not doing it on purpose," Eshne said, his hands finally resting on the table. "I don't think you can help it, it's just..." he paused mid sentence, biting his lips and looking at his palms. "Mages are trained not to be possessed. You saw what happens to those who are." Celebrimbor was reminded of the memories he saw when the younger couldn't control his thoughts. The older elves had killed that child, the young girl, made sense the mage's mind tried to ward him so fiercely. It was instinct. "And I know this is different." 

"But your mind fights just the same," concluded Celebrimbor. 

Eshne nodded. "I'm sorry... It's a little strange, this. You. I don't even know you."

"I see." _I understand you_ , he wanted to say. "I ask a lot, I know. My mistakes are not your fault, it's unfair that they affect you."

 _You have nothing to do with the Elder One_ , the younger stated. It made Celebrimbor chuckle. He wasn't sure how much about him the mage knew, but they never talked much about the past. Especially not about everything that had happened after the forging of the New Ring. He knew he had made mistakes that led him away from Talion, but he didn't know specifics, so as nice as the sentiment was, it was certainly born of a lack of information. He was remembered Brûz, the words of unintentional wisdom he had said when they "met". Dark Lord, Bright Lord, it's all the same. 

"He wants me for what I've done," he said, not wanting to touch on the details just yet. He would tell him, he owed him that much, but right now he needed his trust. "And I also will need your help to get to Talion."

"And I'll help," reassured Eshne. Was he fooling him the same way he fooled Talion at the beginning? Holding back information to his advantage. But this wasn't about just him, it was about saving the mage too. Was egoism not to tell him about his past or was it if he told him at the risk of loosing their change of escaping just so Celebrimbor himself could feel better? 

The Eldar nodded, looking down. "Yes. Thank you."

Eshne's voice didn't let him dwell much on his morality struggles. He awkwardly got up, rubbing his hands together. "Let's try again? Just..." He scratched the back of his head. "I'll try to open my mind or something."

"You need to—"

"Relax," he cut the older elf off, a chuckle forming on his lips. "I get it..." 

It was a matter of how to do it. How to relax when they were trapped underground in a keep or fortress of some sort, trying to escape before they could finish the Elder One's demands? He now admired Talion for always staying calm even in the worst moments. It was not the Eldar nature to give up to despair, but he was realising it was very much a problem for mortals, the elves of Thedas included.

If only he could let his mind wander. Forget about the problems and lose himself to more pleasant days...

Maybe he could... Celebrimbor had messed with the minds of many orcs before Talion had convinced him to try and get their help the hard way, without magic. Even then he had to free their minds before they could do anything. He had never tried that with an Eldar, nor with Men. Eshne was something in between. Still, it could work. In theory at least. It had to be the younger's decision. "I have an idea, though I can't say for sure if I could succeed in doing it." The other elf said nothing, just looked at the older as if waiting for him to elaborate on the subject. So that's what he did. "I could touch your mind, bring back memories you're fond of, so you can focus on them instead."

His fingertips traced the edge of his mandible as he looked into nowhere in particular. "Could that help?" 

He nodded. "If it is your mind that fights, that could at the very least divide the attention."

 _Better than nothing, I guess..._ Eshne sighed. _OK. Happy memories._ "What do I do?"

"Just think about them, so I don't have to pry too much on your mind," he instructed. 

The red-haired elf nodded, closing his eyes as he focused on this task. Celebrimbor stepped forward and brought his hand to the other's face, he didn't want to brand him, so he was careful. Let his magic reach out to the boy's mind just enough to find the memories he had chosen. It was a delicate process, but he was a jewel smith, he knew how to make and handle delicate things as well as he knew how to make steel stronger. It took time and effort, he didn't want to rush it and hurt the elven boy, but he eventually found what he was looking for. A collection of memories, filled with joy and nostalgia. He fixed them on the back of Eshne's mind, so while he wouldn't get lost in them, they would still be there, distracting his mind. 

Celebrimbor got back on the flesh and felt the body loosen up as images played in the background. He could see them fairly well, watching from the elf's perspective, elves with marked faces sailing together in several strange boats, unmarked children running around the deck playing and adults either laughing or yelling at them. A few of them had Eshne's hair, but none of the adults had the same marking. He could Eshne was playing, probably a child too. He wasn't what exactly they were doing, unable to understand what they said and the rules of the game, and he didn't want to intrude more than he had to just to find out.

He had work to do anyway.

Eshne didn't fight as much as he usually did, but there was some resistance yet. It was good enough for now, but they would need to do this more often. Practice. For the moment, Celebrimbor went back to the anvil and got the pair of tongs still holding the metal, using it to get the material back into the furnace. It needed to be hotter. And for that air needed to flow. He had seen many forges in his lifetime, each using different techniques to achieve that. Back in Mordor, with Talion, they had used the heat of the lava pooling on Mount Doom. Here, they used a treadle, which required him to step on a pedal, rocking the foot that wasn't his.

As he stood there, working the treadle, he could still see the memories. This one was in a different place. Great natural pillars made of rock and green short grass. Tends filled the place in a sort of makeshift village, a camp. A big camp. The boats were there too, on soil, and now he could see they had wheels. They weren't moving, but they clearly could work as a wagon. A curious device. Made for both roads and water. Clever, but was it really a necessity? 

Something else caught his attention. Unlike before, Eshne was quiet, as were the other children. Sitting around a fire, eyes glued to an older elf that was saying things in a language that he couldn't understand. He told whatever he was telling with exaggerated gestures and a lot of emotion in his voice as if he was telling epic tales about great heroes. Perhaps he was. He had no way of knowing. 

Around them, adults worked on meat and vegetables as the sun slowly went down. Some were just gathered, enjoying themselves. Eshne's attention was on the storyteller, but he could see them in the background. There were a lot of them. An entire village. He could understand an individual wanting to see the world, but to have an entire mobile village? Were they running from something?

The metal on the furnace was glowing again. 

Back to work, he got the tongs and placed the metal on the anvil, getting the hammer from where Eshne had tossed it. The first few blows were far from perfect, but they were getting better. Celebrimbor would shape the material, every time with less resistance than bring the metal back to the furnace and that was the cycle. Shape it, heat it, shape it. A familiar pattern he had missed so much he had almost forgotten why he was doing it, lost on the joy of working again.

The younger elf's memories usually reminded him though. Seeing how happy he was with his people just made the need to escape and send him back to them all the more pressing. 

The last memory he saw was of a lush forest. Large trees with rough brown bark adorned with mushrooms and ferns as tall as the mallorn trees on his kinswoman's helm, maybe taller. Yet they were not amidst them, the trees around Eshne were tall, but smaller, almost completely covered in moss. They were moving, Eshne mounted on some kind of white deer that he had never seen. The same sort of creature could be seen pulling the wagon-boats. They were beautiful. White short fur shimmering in the golden light of the sun. 

The adults were not as relaxed as before. Some carried weapons. Bows, daggers and swords. Sharp eyes looking at the larger trees as if expecting something to jump from behind them at any given time. 

Eshne did not seem concerned though. Happily discussing something in a mix of his mysterious language and few words in westron, something about blight and darkspawn, he was not sure what those were. There weren't enough common speech words for him to piece it together either. Someone who understood seemed to reprehend them, voice just below yelling, harsh. He couldn't see who it was though. 

Instead, he saw who he was talking with when he turned to face them. A boy. Same copper hair and blue eyes. The unknown young elf was on the wagon, arms resting on it, relaxed. He had to be in the middle of his adolescence. He looked a lot like Eshne too, his facial features younger but obviously similar. Maybe kin? A brother? 

Before he knew, he had finished forging the dagger. It was still far from done, that was only the first step, but maybe he should take a break. The elf's flesh might not get tired anymore, but his mind would. Celebrimbor's would as well, especially with the use of his magic. So he organized the workspace and went back to the table. He was almost guilty of taking the younger away from his memories, but he did. Then he stepped out of his body. 

The red-haired elf said nothing. He didn't look angry or frustrated, so the older sat by his side. Not that it was more comfortable than standing, he just thought it would be slightly awkward to stand behind him in silence. 

So he took his chance and said something. The only thing he could think of saying. It was an honest thought though, so he didn't felt bad about it. "They were beautiful memories."

"You've seen it?" The mage faced him, arched eyebrow. "Of course you have. It... That was my clan." 

He nodded. "You travelled a lot growing up?"

"Yeah..." He turned forward again, rubbing his fingers together. "My people live on the road, since..." His voice faded, letting the sentence hang on the air. _Since we lost everything_ , he continued on thought. 

"You had a kingdom?" Celebrimbor had heard of nomads in Haradwaith, but Haradwaith was a desert. All those places seemed perfectly good to settle down and start a village.

He smiled weakly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "We lost two of those."

"What happened?" He asked for he truly was curious. Had his people been cursed? Was that why they were nomads? 

_First time, we lost immortality and the Imperium conquered us_ . He sighed. _Second time, we refused to worship the shem's god and they slaughtered us. Took away our land. So now we keep moving. We aren't welcome anywhere._ His eyes were looking at nowhere in particular and Celebrimbor could feel his thoughts rushing through his mind, a sad note to them. What had happened to them? "Doesn't matter now. Is it... Is it different where you came from?"

Eshne looked at him with hopeful eyes and Celebrimbor felt torn between telling him about the Eldar or not. Would he be giving him hope or just more reason to suffer? He paused a bit, unsure of what to do, but the hope on those young eyes told him he only wanted to know if somewhere out there, people were having it better than him. "Very. My people had many homes on Middle Earth and now they most likely have returned to Valinor, our... Real home."

"And the shem? Humans."

"Men? We are not enemies," he assured. "We may not always agree, but we are both the children of Ilúvatar."

"You believe in the same God?" Eshne sounded surprised. 

Celebrimbor arched an eyebrow. What did he mean by _"believe"_? Had Men here turned to worship dark figures? Like the Númenóreans. "There is only one god, Ilúvatar, everyone knows that."

"Right, but don't some people think that this isn't the truth? That there is another god, or gods, instead."

"We _know_ he is real," he explained. 

The mage sighed. "But there is any proof?"

"Yes." His answer was probably not what he was expecting. And Celebrimbor didn't know how to phrase an explanation for all he knew. Eru's existence was not more questionable than that of the air. It was not something you could see, but no one on their right mind would say it wasn't there. How could they not know about Ilúvatar? Even if this was not Arda, this was his creation. Who else could do it but him? To be fair, Eshne seemed to be as confused as Celebrimbor about all of this. Maybe it would be better to change the subject. "We should discuss what to do about Calpernia's, the Elder One's request before they get us back to that dome."

"Right." He started to gather all the pieces of paper with the possibilities they had talked about and studied. _He saw your world and wants something to show off._ _Ring is too discrete to that bastard. Sword is useless, though I wish we had one, he does not seem to fight. The bloody coward. Thinks we are going to make a statue or something? What does a god use anyways? A fucking throne, like the shem Maker?_ "A sceptre?" he asked with his calm voice as if his internal monologue hadn't just happened. 

Celebrimbor smiled in amusement. "I don't think a glorified staff is quite enough," he said. 

A frustrated groan escaped the younger's lips and he let his head fall. "Then what?"

 _Maybe we could truly use a sword_ , Celebrimbor said with a hand on his chin. _We could do it quietly._

The younger nodded. _Still leaves us with what to do for the Elder One, and we don't want to give him something we will later regret._

He thought for a moment about it. The Elder One had gotten him from Arda, he had seen that world, he craved for the kind of power Sauron had, but he knew what had happened to the Dark Lord. Most likely wanted to avoid the same mistake. As Eshne had pointed out, he wanted something to show he had power, and he was not a warrior. He wanted to be a god, but he was not one. How does one become a god was beyond him, but it would be wise not to question. At least not while he was his prisoner. 

He wasn't sure what exactly the Elder One was, he didn't even know how he looked. Though he had seen him once, he still couldn't remember it well. Perhaps he was truly divine, in a sense. Corrupted by his own will. Maybe he was this world's equivalent of Morgoth.

 _Morgoth._ The name sparked an idea. 

"What is that?" Eshne questioned.

If the Elder One was as vainglorious as the Vala, that could work. Something that had more symbolic power than real power, that would appeal to his ego. He didn't need to replicate the item in all its glory, it would be madness to even try. Yet, if he could do it well enough to appear powerful without it being... "Who," he corrected the other elf. "I will it explain better, but first, what do think about a crown?"

* * *

Thedas' moon was much larger than that of Arda. Taking a good portion of the sky. A large and glowing circle that bathed the night with white soft light, making his surroundings as clear as they once had been during the day. That is, at least to his cursed eyes. He had never seen such a bright night before waking up in this land. It was beautiful, no doubt. Yet, it could also be a problem when one was trying to sneak up. Like he and Varric were trying to do. Talion had some experience with hiding during daylight, waiting within bushes to attack the rebellious orcs that followed the Gravewalker when the Witch-king felt like seeing him in action. Of course, the element of surprise back then was more so the orcs couldn't run away and he would kill them regardless. Poor bastards. 

As he knelt behind a bush that night though, looking at the templar camp ahead, he knew he couldn't kill anyone if he got caught. Precision was key. 

The camp wasn't absurdly big, but it wasn't small either. It was smaller than the clearing, leaving a large gap filled with only grass between the treeline and tents. He could see thirty-four men, most sleeping, and the demon, who seemed to be occupied inside his tent, which was not the only one. They were all around a bonfire, the warm light co with some guards placed on watch. **"Three people are watching the camp,"** said Talion. 

"Still freaks me out that you just know this stuff," Varric almost whispered at his side.

Talion ignored the comment. He was still trying to find the man he was after, and it was quite difficult to distinguish people by their souls. He could see a lot, but everyone looked almost the same. Especially from afar. He hadn't seen the man enough to memorize the details. **"I can't find him."**

Varric blinked. "Isn't he _here_?"

 **"I just can't differentiate between the soldiers,"** he clarified. Or he tried, for the dwarf could only raise an eyebrow and hope for further explanation. **"I see souls. They have different shapes and feels, but they look pretty much the same."**

"Fine, you know what? I'm going to pretend that's perfectly normal and suggest we do it the old fashioned way."

**"Which is?"**

He pointed to the camp. "By peaking inside every tent until we find him." 

And that was what they did. Talion hadn't seen the man, apart from the soul he couldn't remember all that well, so Varric was the eyes of their little duo. The Nazgûl, instead, used his sorcery to contribute. There was one guard on their way right on the start. Her eyes glued to their general direction by chance. Talion used magic to distract her, shift her attention, enough for both of them to quickly change their hiding spot to behind a tent. The guard was none the wiser as the dwarf cut a piece of the cloth that made the shelter so he could see inside.

They didn't find the man on their first try, nor the second. He wasn't sleeping on the floor, around the fire and near the guards, at least. Talion made sure they stay away from the demon's covering and Varric went on with his small cuts. They found him on the fourth try, with only two more tents left, one belonging to the false Lord Seeker. He was not the only one there, sharing the temporary building with other three soldiers, fewer people than the previous ones had inside. There was room for two more people, which had been used. Probably for two of the guards on watch. 

With his broken sword, he opened a passage to the inside, right on the seam, cutting the threads. He had to be quick about it. Just get in, plant the knowledge and get out. Varric pointed to one of them, the man they were looking for, most likely, and got a little bag from his belt. Out of the corner of the eye, he saw the dwarf blowing a cloud of strange purple dust on the other templars in the tend, while he knelt beside the sleeping man in front of him. 

He conjured up his magic, left hand surrounded by the pale green light of his power. It was visibly different from the bright emerald green light on his right hand. One was vivid and looked toxic, like poison, the other was ghostly and unnatural, an almost bleached colour. 

_"What are you doing?"_ Varric asked, doing his best not to wake up any templar. His voice made the Nazgûl, who was nearing his hand to the man's forehead, stop. He wasn't sure why the other sounded so outraged. Had he done something? 

**"It's best if we don't allow him to ask too many questions,"** he argued, glowing hands almost touching the man already. He didn't intend to brand him or make him serve him, he only wanted to whisper an idea into his mind. **"It will not take long."**

The dwarf got closer and held Talion's arm without hesitation. "Hey, that's _not_ how we do things, Talion."

His gaze was harsh and he did not break eye contact when he met the orange blazing eyes of the Nazgûl. Talion stopped his magic. **"Do you want to wake him up and explain it all to him?"**

"Fuck, yeah, I do, actually."

Talion frowned. It was so much easier just to use his magic. Why was Varric so distressed? He wasn't going to deprive the man of free will, he was only going to plant an idea. One that you help him. **"I'm just going to give him the idea."**

"You can't just _mess_ with people's _minds,_ _without_ their permission!" he urged, eyes wide and head slighted tilted. 

He wasn't sure why, or what it was in the first place, but those words struck a chord somewhere within himself he couldn't _quite_ reach. That same place that crushed his heart every time he heard Celebrimbor's voice in his head. Something inside him said, maybe it wasn't alright. Maybe Varric was right. Was he so truly lost he could even see that anymore? He felt his throat tighten, suddenly finding himself unable to look anywhere but down. He couldn't say anything. Varric, however, didn't seem to need him to. 

Once Talion made no move to invade the man's mind, the dwarf came closer to the templar, still asleep. The Nazgûl stepped aside and put his mask on. Varric pressed his hand at the man's mouth, instantly waking him up. Wide eyes darted between the two trespassers and he tried to reach for something, but Talion quickly pointed Urfael towards him, with no real intention of using. 

"Play nice, we just want to talk," said the dwarf in a casual tone. "Your friends are sleeping and they'll be doing so for a while. We'll just talk and then get out, there is no need to make this more complicated. Now, I would rather have this as a conversation and not a monologue, so can I trust you not to scream?" 

At that, the man gave Varric a firm nod and he let him go. "What do you want?" The templar's voice was serious, with no trace of fear. 

"We came to warn you. The Lord Seeker is not who you think it is," Varric started saying.

"It?"

Talion saw fit to cut in then. He wasn't sure the man would believe what they had to say and he was sure revelling what he could do wouldn't help their case. **"Lucius, there's something wrong with him."**

"You're joking," said the man. Yet, as neither Nazgûl nor dwarf responded, he paused, seemingly thinking better about it. His brow furred and he shocks his head. "No, he's just...He has too much to deal with, he'll see reason."

 **"I'm afraid not. But you don't need to believe in me. If I'm right, there should be evidence."** If he was right, the bait would be enough for him to investigate further. If he saw the truth by himself, he would be more willing to help, maybe convince his peers. At the very least he would not question his nature.

"There's a demon in his place," said Varric impatient. Talion bit his lip, that was definitely not very subtle. 

"Seekers can't be—"

"They can't be possessed," the dwarf cut the templar off. "We know."

 **"The Lord Seeker was not possessed,"** Talion explained, now that Varric had told him, there wasn't much reason not to share the whole information. **"There is a demon pretending to be him."**

The templar blinked, mouth agape. He searched for words, opening and closing his mouth a few times. _"How could you even know that?"_

Varric didn't seem all that concerned about the question. He even chuckled. "You know how they say Talion can close the rifts? That's not the only thing he can do," he explained. 

The man narrowed his eyes. "Why you're telling me this?"

**"If I'm right, don't you think you should know it?"**

He gave them no answer. Still, Talion could almost feel a hundred thoughts crossing his mind. Question was, what was he thinking about? If he should believe them or not? If he should tell what had just happened to the Lord Seeker? Talion had no idea how absurd their claim was, or if the templar was obligated to tell everything to the demon. He still wasn't sure what a seeker was. Thedas continued to be a strange and exotic new world to him. Every day he learned something new.

"I'm not saying I believe you," he finally said. "But it is my duty as a templar to investigate it if there is any chance of the Lord Seeker being _compromised_."

 **"It's all we can ask,"** said Talion. **"If you need help, I'm sure you can find a way to send word to Haven."**

He nodded. Talion could feel his gaze on him then, sharp eyes searching for something in the dark. "Are you really Andraste's chosen?"

Talion paused. _Was he?_ He had no real answers so far. If he said no, then maybe the templar wouldn't trust him and he wasn't sure that was the truth. Though more and more the Nazgûl felt like if he truly was her chosen, she would have let someone know by now. If he said yes, maybe the man would know he was lying and any trust they could build, and any support they could hope to have from templars could be lost. Yet, he had no proof that wasn't the truth either. As unlikely as it was. **"I do not know,"** it was the best he could say. And every time he had to say that he felt it was more difficult to get the words out. Months on Thedas and he still felt just as lost as when he woke up. A little more knowledgeable about small things, but still _so lost._

"...I'm Sir Delrin Barris, by the way." Talion heard the templar's voice, sure he had missed something. He knew his name at least now, Delrin.

He wasn't sure why but got out of the tent without a word. Neither Delrin nor Varric said anything and the dwarf eventually followed him. They both snick out of the camp and once back within the trees and bushes, Talion took off his mask. He was so tired of this. He wasn't even sure of what. Everything? He just wanted an answer. Any answer. He clenched his fists.

"You're alright, Talion?" 

He put the dwarf's concern to rest with half-truths and hoped that he would let it go. The was one thing that could make things better, but he had no idea who... _Celebrimbor_. The elf lord was in Thedas too. He had felt him touching his mind more than once since he got here. Actually, he had a vague memory of feeling him back on Mount Doom, before the rock hit him. If he was trying to reach out, maybe he knew something. He still had to help the Inquisition with the Breach, but he would make time to go searching for the elf. He had to. Perhaps after he closed the first rift once and for all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to remind people something, this is a Shadow of Mordor/War and Dragon Age: Inquisition fanfiction. This is not The Lord of the Rings, nor The Silmarilion. The rules are different. Yes, it makes no sense, but that is the canon I'm working with. I'm trying my best to adapt the abilities Talion and Celebrimbor, Nazgûl Talion and Dragon Age characters had on the games in a way that makes sense. I hope to be doing a good enough job.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
